


Stranger Than Magic

by bright_gay_of_sunshine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Artist Clarke, Clexa, F/F, Friends to Lovers, clexa au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9129634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bright_gay_of_sunshine/pseuds/bright_gay_of_sunshine
Summary: Modern AU. Clarke bumps into her dark and brooding neighbor one day and they inexplicably become friends. She ignores the ridiculous rumors that Lexa is a witch and will take your first born if you ask her a favor, and Lexa laughs at even the prospect. They develop a deep friendship that neither of them realize is turning into something more.





	1. The Witch in Apartment B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fic that I thought of based on a tumblr text post about a lesbian princess asking a witch for a favor in exchange for her first born child. Bear with me, I'll make it work. Please be gentle - it's my first time writing a fic for this fandom. I promise it'll get better than this first chapter - it's a slow burn (but not too slow ;D ).

Chapter 1 – The Witch in Apartment B

Clarke Griffin ran down the steps of her flat, cursing herself for being late to work. Her boots echoed loudly as she willed her feet to move faster downward. Holding the lid to her cup of coffee tight, she took a risk on the second-to-last flight, skipping the last few steps with a jump. She landed with a thud and felt a sharp ache shoot through the bottoms of her heels.

She cursed again but barely paused longer than a second to assess the damage. Ignoring the pain radiating up her calves, she kept moving down the steps as fast as her feet dared to take her. She could mourn the proper use of her ankles at a later date; there were more important things to worry about this morning.

Her passion for art had its downsides. Paying for art school meant she could afford little else. Clarke’s part-time job at a coffee shop only made up for so much of her lack of funds. Her boss was gracious enough to take her in for the few hours she could spare during her schooldays and intended to let her keep the job after she finished up school if she wanted it. It was her last year, and though her workloads weren’t particularly heavy, the amount of time it took to finish her works certainly left her with little time to do much else this semester.

Of course, things hadn't been as bad lately. Rather than do what she'd done previous years (party the whole semester, procrastinate, and then rush to do her assignments the week before their due dates) Clarke had taken the initiative to start her projects the day they were assigned. She’d been so proud of herself. For once, a strange phenomenon occurred where she’d had the gumption to work hard. She'd been experiencing frequent bursts of creative inspiration, and by the end of the first month of the semester, she’d had all but one final project finished. For once, her school life was properly balanced with her work life.

Work life was getting better, too. Clarke had almost cried when her boss offered to sell a few of her side works at the coffee shop – something that had greatly helped her finances. And, most importantly, Raven had hooked her up big time.

Raven Reyes worked at the coffee shop with Clarke and was, as her best friend, the greatest supporter of her artistic talent. Raven was practically the only reason Clarke had had the guts to defy her mother when she'd been pushing Clarke to get a medical degree, and gave her the courage to instead do what she wanted for a living. She was always her most supportive friend, and was still supporting her in ways Clarke never expected but always needed. Clarke always tried her best to make sure that favor was returned in full.

Unbeknownst to Clarke, Raven had served an art director of a major gallery in the city at the coffee shop one day. Never one with much reserve, Raven had eavesdropped on a conversation he was having on the phone, and decided she should point out the artwork placed around the café.

Raven was retelling the story to her later, and Clarke had expected Raven to tell her that he’d looked at them to be polite.

“He glanced around, did he?” Clarke had asked nervously. 

“You bet your ass he did,” Raven smirked, and had leaned her arm around her best friend. “You’ll never guess what happened.” She only continued smiling, waiting for Clarke to ask.

Clarke frowned, furrowing her brow. “He didn’t actually buy one did he?”

At Raven’s suppressed laugh, Clarke’s eyebrow raised. “Did he buy two? What? Raven, come on-”

But Raven cut her off with a hug and told her how he was more than interested, and had offered the artist a spot in his gallery’s new exhibition featuring undiscovered artists. “Naturally, I accepted his offer.”

“What?” Clarke had went through a brief period of disbelief, acceptance, and then extreme jubilation accompanied with a profuse amount of thank-yous. They’d started to make so much noise that Clarke’s downstairs neighbor had started knocking a broom on their ceiling to reach her kitchen floor, a sound that almost threatened to quell her excitement.

“SHUT IT,” Raven had yelled and stomped back. The broom-knocking had stopped, so their jumping and squealing continued for a short time more before they collapsed onto Clarke’s couch. Out of breathe and full of smiles, they laughed together at the prospect of Clarke’s pieces being shown off to half the city and being bought by millionaires.

When they got carried away with their noise level once more, they heard another three thuds of a broom knocking against their floor.

“I swear, that neighbor of yours is asking for a fake eviction notice,” Raven said with a look at Clarke, knowing she could easily replicate one with her skills. She swept her dark hair up in a ponytail, exasperated.

“I’m not that cruel,” Clarke looked thoughtfully down at the floor. She thought of the countless times in the past month she hadn’t even been terribly loud and had received a noise complaint from her downstairs neighbor. “Well, maybe I am.

“Could she be any ruder, though?” Raven asked, crossing her arms. Having come over at least weekly to visit the upstairs apartment, she knew what Clarke had to deal with. “My friends have a few classes with her and I tell you, she’s weird.”

“How so?” Clarke furrowed her brow. The blonde had ran into her downstairs neighbor a few times, but had never had any classes with her. She had noticed, lately, that her neighbor seemed especially sensitive to the faintest sounds coming from her apartment, and that had been ticking off just a bit. Neither of them were especially rude to each other, but it was getting a little weird.

“I don’t know. She wears all these dark clothes and makeup. She’s so tall and kind of scary. Well, that’s what other people say,” Raven added.

Clarke had largely ignored what she’d said. “Of course she’s taller than you, most people are taller than you.”

She’d earned a glare. “I personally don’t care that much what she looks like. It’s just that she never talks to anyone, just sits there all broody like she’s about to hex anyone who crosses her.”

“Yeah, she is kind of dark,” Clarke leaned back on the couch and stretched her legs out on Raven’s lap. She didn’t entirely agree with her friend’s opinion on her neighbor’s fashion taste. It didn’t look bad on the girl in the least. However, Clarke had definitely noticed the broody, hex-casting vibe.

“I don’t know, I mean that whole image combined? Maybe she’s a witch,” Raven frowned mockingly.

“Oooh, terrifying,” Clarke agreed. “Maybe she has special powers and can hear what we’re saying right now.”

“Do you think?” Raven’s eyes widened, but she was smiling this time.

Clarke was sharing the grin while she’d nodded.

Raven whispered and looked below her to the direction of the downstairs apartment, “Hey, you know that broom you hit the fucking ceiling with all the time? Do you get a kick of riding around on it after?”

Clarke clamped a hand over her mouth and tried hard to contain the laugh threatening to escape her lungs. Raven was not silent about laughing and her cackles echoed the walls.

At that moment, three thunderous blows hit the floor directly below them, causing both girls to jump out of their bones. Clarke yanked her feet back to her own side of the couch and failed to suppress an involuntary noise from her mouth.

As terrifying as her neighbor’s timely response had been, Clarke still found it very hard to speak through her laughter. “She heard you.”

Their giggles emanated quietly through the room, the attempt to be quieter somehow making the whole situation funnier.

That day had been two weeks ago, and Clarke had reminisced about the memory the night before she was to meet with the art director and deliver her art to the gallery to be reviewed and selected for.

However, she was lying in bed that very morning when she had opened her eyes, looking at her phone with a startling realization. It was Saturday.

“March 11th,” Clarke whispered to herself when she was turning her alarm off. Almost immediately after, she sat upright in bed, eyes widening in horror, reading the other personal notification on her screen.

She’d forgotten about daylight saving’s time.

Her meeting was supposed to be within an hour and a half, but according to her clock (which hadn’t yet been switched to the proper time), the meeting started in thirty minutes. That gave her 10 minutes to get ready, 10 minutes to take the 25-minute subway ride from her place to the center of Manhattan, 10 minutes to actually get through the building and find the director – there was no way she was going to make it.

“No,” Clarke whined aloud. In her panic, she was starting to sweat through the old t-shirt she’d worn to bed. “Oh my god, oh my god.” She was really terrible when she was in a rush, usually somehow taking even longer to get ready (or so it seemed) and was an anxious mess in general.

Getting into this art exhibition was extremely important to her, so she’d scrambled to get ready faster than she’d ever done so in her life and was presently clomping down the stairs, portfolio in hand, ankle throbbing from the jump.

When she’d reached the last landing, she took a risk and skipped more stairs than should have been possible. Of course, everything had to go wrong this morning.

Clarke already felt the impact coming as soon as her boots twisted from under her. She braced herself and abandoned her coffee cup and portfolio, desperately hoping they went in opposite directions so that her art would be saved some stains. That’s exactly what this already-mess-of-a-morning needed.

She groaned and lay there on the floor in pain, finally conceding to wallow in her failure to make it on time, planning to just call the director and blame it on traffic. Clarke mentally assessed the damage, rolling one ankle after the other, sighing in relief when neither gave her a significant amount of pain enough to worry her. She tried to sit up on the arm that she’d used to brace her fall with, however, and yanked it back from under her weight, wincing a bit.

Clarke barely had time to think anything more about her arm when all of a sudden she heard the creaking of a door open. She hadn’t realized it at all, but Clarke had landed right on her downstairs neighbor’s doorstep.

Clarke sat up fully now, moving blonde hair out of her face, eyes meeting first with black Doc Martins. Her embarrassed eyes made their way past black high waisted jeans and an old band t-shirt. Brunette hair was spread messily across shoulders, and perfectly arched eyebrows looked down at her. Clarke felt the heat on her cheeks, only a little (a lot) mortified by the scene laid out before her neighbor.

Finally meeting a familiar pair of green eyes, Clarke sighed and greeted, “Morning, Lexa.”

She was met with silence for a moment longer, until her towering neighbor unexpectedly kneeled down next to her.

“Are you alright?” Lexa asked. Her head cocked to the side, green eyes inspecting blue ones. Clarke noticed she’d must’ve been in the middle of her makeup routine, as her lips hadn’t yet taken on their usual dark color yet. It was almost refreshing to see the light pink- light pink that was presently speaking to her.

“Huh? Yes. Just peachy, really.” Clarke answered. Sarcasm her only defense for the disappearance of her dignity. Why did she always need to make a fool of herself in front of people she barely knew?

“Really?” Lexa droned. She looked at Clarke, then at the portfolio (which was now strewn all over the place), then at the coffee cup (which’s spill had started to touch the edge of the portfolio folder), and then back at Clarke again with pressed lips and raised eyebrows. “My mistake, then. You look perfectly in order.”

Clarke smirked. “I always start my morning like this. I feel the dirt on the floor acts as a great seasoning for the coffee.”

The limitation of their interactions usually included nodding at each other while passing by in the hall. Clarke never really took it further than that, though sometimes she found herself looking forward to their brief hellos to see whether the other girl would actually smile. She was annoyingly aware of the fact that her neighbor was all dressed perfectly and prepared for the day, face already done beautifully even halfway through her makeup process. All Clarke had done that morning was throw on clothes nice enough to look professional for the art director, clothes, which she now realized had also suffered from the coffee spill. She looked pitifully at the stain and whispered “Oh, fuck me.”

“Looks like your routine is working for you.” She started wordlessly gathering Clarke’s portfolio together and handed it back. Lexa then stood quietly and offered out a hand to Clarke so that she could stand. She gratefully took her neighbor’s hand, but winced again when Lexa inadvertently pressed on her hurt arm.

“Clarke are you okay?” Lexa asked again, dark brows furrowing. She supposed that the most they’d ever talked was when Clarke first moved in. They’d exchanged names and improperly placed mail, but Lexa hadn’t seemed nearly as talkative or, dare she say friendly, as she had today. They were by no means close, but the girl still hadn’t released her. Clarke didn’t expect her to turn the arm over in her hands and push the fabric away, revealing the wound. “Clarke you’re bleeding.”

“It’s alright, I’m extremely late to a meeting and it’ll really have to wait to get looked at,” Clarke shrugged, deciding that this was more than she and her neighbor had ever actually talked before. It was kind of refreshing, but given the circumstances, she was too stressed out to make good conversation.

“I’d be happy to help patch it up really quick for you,” Lexa offered. Her fingers grazed the wound again and Clarke flinched when they touched the bruise that was already forming around it. “It’ll take two seconds, tops.”

“It’s really fine,” Clarke pushed, nerves jittery at the ticking clock. With a self-depreciating laugh, she added, “It’s already 10:30 and if I don’t make this meeting, it might kind of ruin my art career.” She was sure Lexa was judging the bags under her eyes and her unkempt appearance, and probably the colors stuck on her fingernails from last night’s late painting endeavor. Lexa’s nails were polished and painted light pink to look healthy as ever. If Clarke had to describe Lexa’s fashion, it was a most certainly a darker aesthetic look (dare she say a witchy-vibe, thank you Raven) that somehow still came across as elegant. And it was really a wonder anybody could get their eyebrows shaped that perfectly by themselves.

“10:30?” she realized Lexa was saying, and brought her attention back to the present. The other girl was glancing at the watch on her wrist. “No, it’s still 9:30.”

“What? But – daylight’s savings time?” Clarke mumbled. In March, she was sure the clocks jumped forward, and not backwards. She was too tired to think very hard about it.

“That’s tomorrow,” Lexa shook her head, and with an unexpected smirk added, “Maybe it’s your head that’s been hit.” She still had yet to release Clarke’s arm and was suddenly, gently, tugging said arm into her apartment. Tone a little teasing, she continued “What’s so important about this meeting that it decides the future for you?”

Clarke had never stepped foot in the apartment, and hadn’t expected it to look as big as it did. It was the same size as her own apartment above, but it had a significantly less amount of furniture in it. It was a mirror image of her place, but classier, and whatever clutter Clarke had lying around was replaced with decorative pieces in this apartment. The whole place smelled like lavender incense, and she took a deep breathe, feeling a little calmer. Lexa walked her to the kitchen and sat her down upon chairs pulled up to the kitchen island. Clarke’s arm was released and Lexa moved wordlessly to retrieve a first-aid kit from a cabinet above the refrigerator.

“I’m meeting with someone who might show my art in an exhibition. I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but it has the potential to me make some money, or at least get my name out there,” Clarke explained. For some reason, it felt easier to talk when her neighbor was distracted with things other than caressing her wound.

“That sounds really interesting,” Lexa remarked, and made sure to look Clarke in the eyes. “Congratulations.” Clarke smiled in return at her sincere compliment.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting you from anything,” Clarke decided to say. It was only a little awkward being there, and, as nice as she was being, Clarke was honestly waiting for Lexa to comment on how loud she’d been upstairs in general at any minute. She wasn’t used to her neighbor appearing so amicable. Or really, appearing at all. It really wasn’t often she was seen in the building, and she realized it was ridiculous how they’d been seemingly avoiding a real conversation. If they’d ever had a chance to converse more after their first meet, Clarke was sure she would’ve remembered the way Lexa’s lips stretched when she smiled. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Lexa said, and her smile vanished as quickly as it’d come. It seemed as though she was fighting to keep it from resurfacing, though, when she said, “I just heard loud sounds coming from the stairwell and went to check it out, and-”

“Yes?” Clarke dared her to continue. She knew what she looked like; she knew that the image of her limbs sprawled out, half-on the stairs with coffee covering her everything was probably frighteningly attractive.

“Please excuse me, Clarke,” Lexa told her and tried (but failed) to frown. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. Especially when this looks so terrible,” she said and gestured to her arm.

“It’s fine,” Clarke hummed as the girl cleaned her wound and tenderly applied a bandage to the cut. “It was probably hilarious, actually,” she said and laughed a little. “I can swing by the hospital later and have my mom check it out.”

“Your mom’s a nurse?” Lexa asked. She was soothing the bandage and making sure it was stuck on Clarke, and then her hands were gone. “That’s a good idea.”

“Doctor. But yeah, it comes in handy for someone as well-coordinated as myself.”

Lexa nodded, grin still present. “I’m sure.”

Aside from finding amusement in Clarke’s clumsiness, Lexa was currently smiling more than she had ever been seen doing so by her neighbor. Nine out of ten times, she’d seen the brooding look Raven was talking about, hex-casting frown and all. However, that kind of atmosphere, as compared with the delicate way she was now patching Clarke’s arm up, really didn’t match up at all.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood this morning,” Clarke remarked. “Not to say that you don’t regularly seem happy-”

“Please,” Lexa snorted. “My sister tells me I have resting bitch-face, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

Clarke didn’t know whether to laugh along or protest, so she did both. “It’s not that bad.”

But Lexa only gave her the same look again. “Anyway, my sister has finally moved out. I think I’m feeling less stressful without the constant nagging that only comes with having an older sibling - as much as I love her. That, and, you know, Clarke, we’ve never actually had a chance to talk. It’s nice having someone other than Anya to talk to - if only for ten minutes.”

“Well, yeah. You’re like, extremely nice?” Clarke blinked and mentally back-tracked. “I didn’t mean that to end with a question mark, sorry. Uh – Wait, did you say your sister moved out? When did she move in?”

“She was in-between places, and her new apartment was being renovated,” Lexa sighed. “Basically, she just vegged out on my couch for a few weeks. She was here practically more than me, but never left.”

“Ah.”

Finally calming down from her earlier hectic rush, Clarke sank back in Lexa’s chair for a moment, “Well, I should thank you for helping me out here. There’s nothing really I can do about this,” she said, gesturing to the coffee stain spread awkwardly around the front of her shirt and pants. “But at least I won’t get my blood all over the place. I’m going to get there just on time now.”

Clarke cursed the strange architecture of their building. What should have been two flights of stairs between them was actually several sets that wound around the walls of the building like a square, spiral staircase. Without an elevator, it was essential hell to climb.

“I’ve never really been upstairs before, but I assume it takes time,” Lexa guessed and bit her lip. She moved her hair away from her neck but twisted it in thought, with her eyes focusing beyond Clarke. “Doesn’t look fun.”

“You're not wrong,” Clarke huffed. “I wouldn’t have minded an elevator over whatever M.C. Escher bullshit that is.” Why her apartment building had never put one in, Clarke would never know. It was frustrating that mornings like this couldn’t be prevented with such a machine. She may still trip and spill coffee on herself, but her ankles might ache less from thudding all over the place.

“Let me save you the trip,” Lexa suggested. “You can borrow one of my shirts.”

Clarke was about to protest, but Lexa walked quickly out of the room with long strides and soon returned with a silky dress shirt in hand, the perfect replacement that would come down long enough to cover the coffee stain on her upper pant leg as well. “Lexa, I- Thank you! Are you sure?” Clarke stared at her.

“It’s no problem,” she answered. “You look like you’re having quite a morning.” She turned around, facing the refrigerator so that Clarke could change without having to move. “I know you’re in a rush, too.”

“Yeah, I think I’m a little nervous. Makes my limbs harder to control,” Clarke started to explain. She moved her injured arm precariously out of her old shirt and into the new, still so anxious about the meeting that she hadn’t even stopped to think how awkward it was to be changing in a near-complete stranger’s kitchen. Heat touched her cheeks, thought there really wasn’t an immediate threat to her dignity. Lexa hadn’t turned around until Clarke said something, however, so she didn’t think to feel any more uncomfortable until Lexa assessed her new wardrobe.

“How do I look?” Clarke asked, finding herself anxious again when her neighbor’s eyes looked her up and down, considering the shirt.

“It works,” she said and nodded. Lexa kept staring, but Clarke realized she was only checking to see if it really did stretch over her stain. She nodded and met Clarke’s eyes with a satisfied smile. “I won’t keep you. Get the shirt back to me when you can, it’s no problem.”

Clarke might’ve asked if she was positive about three more times had she not glanced at the clock again. At this point, if she left now, she’d be perfectly early enough to walk around and practice what she was going to say to the art director when she met him. So, she settled to thank Lexa profusely as she walked towards the door.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Clarke told her, forgetting about her stained shirt left on the counter. Her portfolio was securely tucked under her arm. “Sorry about everything.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lexa replied and shook her head. A hint of a smile formed on her lips again and Clarke found that it somehow really complimented her look (though the brooding one could have easily matched as well).

“I’ll make it up to you, you know; I feel like I owe you one.”

“Honestly, Clarke, it’s nothing.”

At the risk of making her further late, something in Clarke rooted her feet to the ground just outside of the door. “Seriously though, you’ve practically fixed my whole day. You busy tonight?”

“Not particularly,” Lexa lifted one shoulder. The light smile on her lips changed into a frown of question.

“You like pizza? Wine?” Clarke asked head tilting forward. “I’m making you dinner.”

“First of all, who doesn’t like pizza?” Lexa asked, green eyes wide. “And wine, for that matter. You’re on.”

“Lexa,” Clarke crooned. “This is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

How Clarke hadn't made friends with Lexa earlier would elude her the rest of the morning, and she felt herself thinking more about their encounter than the anxiety she had about her meeting downtown. 

Clarke smiled, thinking of how she would break the news to Raven that Lexa was, indeed, not a witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you like where it's going. I thrive on positive feedback and love all of you that have given it so far.I really hope you guys liked it! I can't thank you enough for reading it. I'll also be posting it on fanfiction dot net under username citroensandblueteacups .
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the aforementioned tumblr post.


	2. Chapter 2 - Pizza and a Potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Quick update, wasn't it?

Lexa stepped over the coffee stain that remained on the floor. She was coming home from her day of classes at the university and her mind was thoroughly preoccupied. In fact, it had been all morning - ever since a certain blonde from upstairs had landed quite literally on her doorstep.

Lexa was always aware of her neighbor, frequently hearing the front door of their building opening at odd hours of the night. Rather than feel annoyed, she almost always felt quite sorry for the mess of a sleep cycle her neighbor must have.

Several times in the past year, they’d passed while Lexa was locking her front door, or while the two of them had simultaneously made it to the front door of the building. Lexa had always attempted to smile back at her neighbor. The only problem was that whenever their eyes met, it always seemed easier to look away. She wasn’t even really that shy, she just wasn’t particularly good at talking to new people.

New, _admittedly_ _attractive_ , people.

People always assumed she had a quiet personality, but in reality, Lexa talked at length to those she was comfortable with. Clarke just wasn’t one on those people.

Not yet, anyway. That remained to be seen after their pizza dinner plans.

Lexa stopped herself as she hung her coat on its hook. She’d willfully allowed Clarke to invite herself in and cook her dinner. _Did she even have all the ingredients in her fridge? Was Clarke bringing them? Would it be as pleasant a time as this morning? Would it be terribly awkward?_

As much as she was nervously anticipating Clarke’s arrival, she couldn’t help but feel a little excited as well. Almost a year of barely exchanging words, and now a whole meal spent together? It was something nice to look forward to. And besides, she could use more friends.

Of course, she was by no means lonely. Lexa had always had Anya in her life to spend time with. As far as being supportive in every aspect of her sister’s life, Lexa couldn’t be more grateful for someone like her. The only thing was that sometimes, she could be a little _too_ supportive. She always pushed Lexa to do her best, and it helped Lexa out greatly. She was always the type of sister to give lots of advice. Mom-like advice. Some might even call her advice, well, nagging.

Lexa didn’t usually mind all that much, but was certainly glad to have her apartment back to herself after Anya’s stay. Her alone time would never be taken for granted again, and she could always text or call Anya if she was ever lonely again.

Though she realized that she wouldn’t be getting her alone time just quite yet, Lexa hardly doubted she would regret spending that time with Clarke.

* * *

Three sharp knocks sounded from the door to alert Lexa of her neighbor’s arrival. She got up to answer the door and smoothed down the shirt she’d put on after changing, accompanied by black leggings. Lexa wasn’t exactly positive how one would dress for a two-person pizza-making party, but she assumed it was something along the lines of what she’d chosen.

When she swung open the door, she took a deep breath and smiled back at pink-tinged cheeks and a wide grin. Clarke greeted her and lifted her bag of supplies. “I hope I’m not late. Against my better judgement, I kind of rushed down those stairs again.”

“You’re perfectly on time,” Lexa answered and led her to the kitchen for the second time that day.

Clarke followed her and sat at one of the chairs on the island counter, the same spot she’d taken earlier, and set her bag on top. Lexa noticed that she too had changed, from dress pants and Lexa’s shirt to near-identical leggings and a long-sleeved shirt of her own. Lexa mentally congratulated herself for dressing correctly for the occasion.

Clarke reached in her bag and pulled out a fresh bottle of wine, shaking it a little for emphasis. “Do you have glasses?”

Lexa pulled two wine glasses from a cabinet and draped them lazily upside down between long fingers, handing them out for Clarke to choose from. “Take your pick.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said before choosing the left one. “I hope you like red.”

Lexa nodded, leaning against the island, and allowed Clarke to pour her some. “How did your meeting go?

Clarke took a sip of wine and smiled. “The art director, Mr. Wells, asked to look at my portfolio, and you’ll never guess what happened.”

Lexa only raised an eyebrow, so Clarke continued. “Among several of the pieces of art he chose, he happened to look at one with a coffee stain that I didn’t catch before handing the portfolio to him.”

“He wasn’t upset or anything?” Lexa hoped. She’d been so preoccupied with trying to help clean up the wound on Clarke’s arm and the stain on her clothes and had completely forgotten that the coffee might stain the art. Perhaps Mr. Wells had seen it and thought Clarke had been unprofessional. She truly hoped that was not the case. “Right?”

Clarke took another sip of her wine, the contents of her glass draining quickly. “He must've thought it was part of the art, and loved it. He wants it to be my main piece.” She paused and shook her head, looking back at Lexa with awe still on present in her expression. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him I just fell on my ass. Accidents happen.”

Lexa smiled at her neighbor. A laugh was threatening to escape her lips, and Clarke noticed. “What?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m imagining it all again,” Lexa shrugged and quickly looked into her wine glass. A quick glance at Clarke from the corner of her eyes told her she was a receiving a glare, but a playful glare nonetheless.

“Jeez, Lexa, we’ve only properly known each other for exactly one day and I can already tell that I’ll never live that incident down for the rest of my life.”

“No, probably not,” Lexa murmured and hid her smile behind the glass again. The level of liquid in it was waning increasingly as well. “How is your arm, by the way?”

“Nice change of subject,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “I called my mom about it, but she’s swamped at the hospital. She can get me in first thing tomorrow morning, though.”

“Seriously? Because it looks, well, serious,” Lexa added dumbly. “Did you at least change the dressing?”

“Yeah, after my meeting,” Clarke nodded. When Lexa squinted doubtfully at her, she continued, “My mom taught me a thing or too, it’s just an odd sort of angle to patch up by yourself, you know? Perhaps it’s not the best job…”

Lexa had already reached for her arm again, not realizing that she kept invading her neighbor’s personal space until her fingers landed at the base of Clarke’s sleeve. But then, Clarke was turning her arm over and allowing her to help. Her fingertips skirted the edge of the half-heartedly placed bandage and she looked into Clarke’s eyes. “Would you mind?”

“I should be asking you that,” Clarke laughed rather breathily, and Lexa realized that she truly was invading her personal space, and had inadvertently moved close enough so that her hips were just touching her neighbor’s knees. She swallowed and blamed her lack of spatial awareness on the wine. Clarke’s voice brought her focus back. “But please, go ahead.”

She retreated for some much needed space and headed to her bandage supply above the fridge again, this time getting a washcloth as well. Lexa sat back in her own seat. Unfortunately for her, Clarke tried to be helpful and lean closer to give her an easier time. Her neighbor’s wine glass was already empty, so perhaps she hadn’t noticed the weird proximity yet. Or at least, wasn’t affected by it.

At least able to breathe properly, she took the warm washcloth and gently cleaned the cut. As gross as it should’ve been, blood didn’t really affect Lexa. As a kid, she’d played really rough and probably saw more blood on her own body than most people did before they were ten. She really didn’t mind. Clarke flinched a little as one of her fingernails accidentally grazed her skin on the last stroke of the cloth, and Lexa looked up, concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Clarke claimed, but Lexa saw a little more color in her cheeks. “It’s all good. I’m probably just a little tender.”

Lexa distractedly agreed. “Let’s hope it’s only a bruise, and not a break.”

Clarke’s only acknowledgment was the nodding of her head.

She abandoned the washcloth and finished applying the bandage with some antibiotic cream. Lexa smoothed the edges down as she had this morning, trying to be tender this time, but Clarke flinched still.

“Seriously, please let me know if I’m hurting you,” Lexa frowned. She moved a few loose strands of her hair out of her own face to find Clarke’s cheeks still pink.

“No really, it’s fine,” she insisted.

Lexa looked down at the arm she was still holding, finding it lined with goosebumps.

“There’s no shame in being ticklish, Clarke,” Lexa teased.

Clarke opened her mouth in indignation, coloration reaching her ears, horrified expression stuck in her face. “ _What_?”

Lexa was blaming a lot of their behavior on alcohol tonight - especially her ability to talk so freely to the neighbor she knew next-to-nothing about. 

“Shut up,” Clarke said, but her frown was soon, begrudgingly, replaced with an embarrassed grin to match almost that of Lexa’s.

“Hey, I don’t usually poke strangers’ arms just to see them squirm either. I’ve been told alcohol makes me touchy,” Lexa admitted with her hands up in defense.

“I’m... _probably regrettably_... filling up both our glasses again,” Clarke announced as she did just that, “…but I trust we can handle ourselves with both our faults now out in the open.”

“A harrowing idea.” Oh, but it was so definitely the opposite of that. “So you think we’ll be capable of making good pizza while wink-drunk?”

“Oh,” Clarke practically sang, “That’s only the best time to make pizza - while wine-drunk. That’s when my creativity really comes out.”

“If you say so.”

Clarke reached into the bag she’d brought again. With another long sip from her glass, she said, “Alright, so I already have the dough prepared, but I didn’t know your preferred topping choices, so I brought a bunch.”

It was after that they decided to each make personal pan pizzas, so Lexa turned on her oven and retrieved aprons for the two of them. Clarke rolled out an appropriate amount of dough each pizza, and Lexa stood by the other girl’s side, staring blankly at the ingredients laid out before them.

“Key to a perfect pizza is getting your sauce to cheese proportion right,” Clarke declared and spread out a perfectly even layer of sauce on her pizza, handing the spoon to Lexa to do the same.

“You cook pizza often, do you?”

“Only on special occasions,” she said, accompanying the statement with a wink.

Lexa drank some more wine and took the spoon determinedly. She spread a slightly less even, patchy amount of sauce on her pizza. She looked doubtfully at her cooking partner but Clarke nodded in approval. “You know, I changed my mind. There’s no right or wrong way to decorate a pizza,” she insisted.

Grated cheese was already put out in a bowl, ready and prepared to be sprinkled over the sauce. Still more wine was had. Lexa was busy adding a few chopped veggies to her pizza while Clarke was adding her own meat toppings. Releasing the last few ingredients on top of the cheese layer, Lexa found her hand stilled by Clarke’s, trying to get her attention.

“Yes?” Lexa looked over into a face that was startlingly closer than she’d expected. She took into account that Clarke was at least a glass of wine ahead of her.

“Lex,” Clarke started. “I’m going to tell you the secret to how to perfect your crust.”

“Is it to use olive oil and sprinkle garlic on it? Because I was goi-”

“No,” she whispered. Lexa’s hand was released. Clarke continued whispering, a little conspiratorially. “You see this leftover cheese? The best place to put it,” she paused and demonstrated the action with her hands, “-is right in the crust here.”

Clumsy hands were crowding some of the remaining cheese into the edge of the pizza, and then Clarke’s fingers delicately rolled the ends of the dough over the cheese so that a stuffed crust masterpiece was born.

Lexa leaned over Clarke’s pizza unsteadily to look and agree, “Genius.”

Clarke’s hand flew to her back to steady her as she leaned back, and Lexa smiled in thanks. The hand released her, but they were both standing practically hip-to-hip. Clarke’s eyes searched her face for something (perhaps making sure she wasn’t going to pass out), the spell only broken by the sound of the oven signaling that it had reached the appropriate temperature. Lexa turned away first to retrieve a board for them to place their pizzas on.

Their pizzas were soon perfected by sharing styles of crust preparation. Pizzas in the oven and aprons off, they moved to sit down on Lexa’s couch.

“Should we watch something while we wait?”

“Yeah, sure,” Clarke agreed. “What’s on Netflix?”

Lexa hooked her laptop up to her television screen for better viewing. They searched through a list of suggested shows. “How about Practical Magic?”

Clarke gave her a look that Lexa couldn’t quite decipher. She asked, “Any reason in particular?”

“I love that movie. The bond between the sisters and their magical powers – it’s my favorite. But perhaps more suited to the Halloween season,” Lexa added as an afterthought. “Is it weird I’m feeling a TV show right now more than a movie?”

They briefly discussed their options and settled on watching Black Mirror.

Clarke gave her a brief smile and reached over to press play. They sat on the couch in awe of the show, watching as the characters on the TV show tried to deal with a royal family member being kidnapped.

They nearly didn't hear the beeping of the timer when it went off, as they were already so engrossed in the show. However, Lexa responsibly removed herself from the couch and pulled out Clarke’s pizza. It was placed on the cooling rack and Lexa’s own pizza went back into the oven.

She joined Clarke back on the couch and saw that the girl had paused the show for her. Lexa sat down next to her on the couch and pulled out the forgotten wine bottle from behind her back. Her neighbor’s eyes lit up and she immediately took it and poured them each some, finishing off the bottle with very full glasses.

They became absorbed in the show again, making pleasant conversation here and there about how they thought the show would end, but the timer soon went off again. When Lexa returned this time, she was holding plates with a slice for each of them. Once slice was much hotter than the other, so she settled her plate on her lap instead of immediately digging in.

“These look absolutely delicious,” she remarked anyway as her mouth began to water. She glanced at Clarke and found her looking at Lexa, waiting. “What is it, Clarke?”

The half-emptied glass was held up between them, bright eyes gazing into her questioning ones. “A toast, to our new friendship. And to hereby making, probably, the best pizza ever.”

“To friendship and great pizza,” Lexa agreed, and they clanked glasses. Their fingertips grazed each other when the glass touched, a quick warm sensation contrasting with the cold temperature of their drinks. They held each other’s gazes only for a second, eyes crinkling and lips stretching as they both downed the rest of the wine. Grimaces that can only come from too much alcohol at once and laughs that can only come from experiencing the same temporary, terrible sensation were shared between them.

They remained there on the couch for several hours, ever enthralled in the show they’d decided on. Still, comments were frequently exchanged between the two of them, creating an easy atmosphere that almost made Lexa feel as comfortable as if she were really watching with Anya. But in contrast to her sister’s typical negative remarks about how certain stunts in television shows were “ _so_ _fake_ ,” Clarke ignored the falsity of such stunts and focused instead on how well the show was produced. She was positive and brought a lighter atmosphere to the apartment, and Lexa found herself really enjoying Clarke’s presence.

After they’d solidly dug into half of their own pizzas, Clarke spoke up. “Hey Lexa.”

“Yeah?” she asked as her elbow (which had unknowingly been resting on Clarke’s for quite some time now) was nudged. She could blame it on the fact that her couch sagged a bit in the middle, forcing any two on the couch to inevitably slide closer to one another. She could also blame the reason that she hadn’t really tried all that hard to move away on the fact that they’d literally finished an entire bottle of wine. She could.

Lexa chose not to focus on it and, rather, focus on what the other girl was saying. “Sorry?”

“I asked if I could have a piece of your pizza,” Clarke repeated. “I’ll trade you, piece for piece.”

Lexa was trying her hardest not to lean into Clarke, as she had moved to speak closer to Lexa’s ear. It hadn’t been just their elbows touching, she’d realized; their shoulders had been holding each other up for, well, she didn’t know how long. But Clarke had just turned her head, nose tickling a few strands of her hair, and Lexa absolutely refused to turn towards her. She needed air again.

“Absolutely,” Lexa tried, hoping to hell her voice came out normally. She reached for her pile of pizza and swapped one for Clarke’s, handing her the slice.

“Cheers,” Clarke said again, eyes glazed just a bit. They were still somehow bright, but Lexa really didn’t understand how. The only light in her apartment came from the screen flickering before them. She dragged her own eyes away and instead turned back to her slice. They both sunk their teeth into each other’s pizza, delighting in the others’ topping choices. “Nicely done, Lexa,” Clarke tried to say between bites.

“You too,” Lexa mumbled with a full mouth.

“You know what I’ve just realized?” Clarke asked once she swallowed.

“Hm?”

She licked her fingers free of pizza sauce. “One of the whole points of me coming down here tonight was to get you back for letting me borrow the shirt. A shirt that, let’s face it, probably brought me all of the best luck and was the real reason Mr. Wells didn’t notice the coffee stain.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“It’s like it was charmed or something,” Clarke sighed, squinting at nothing in particular.

“What’s your point?” Lexa asked, turning towards Clarke this time.

Much to her chagrin, the sheer hope that Clarke would respect the appropriate distance between them only seemed to make the opposite happen faster. Lexa swore the other girl’s eyes flickered to her lips but she really couldn’t be sure.

She was probably imagining it.

Everything was hazy.

“My point? _Oh_ , my point. My point is that I just realized I forgot to even bring the shirt,” she spoke quietly and cleared her throat, adding, “I washed it and everything.”

Lexa forgot how to work her voice all of a sudden, it seemed. She settled for shrugging and almost flimched when her shoulder brushed Clarke’s. She attempted to clear her own throat. “It’s okay.”

“I guess it just means I’ll have to make time to get it to you,” her neighbor sighed, but she didn’t look at all upset.

“It’s okay, really,” Lexa insisted, clueless as to what Clarke was getting at. “If it’s too much trouble, you can always leave it hanging on my door. Seeing as we’re the only tenants in the building, I’m really not worried about it being stolen.”

Clarke frowned. “What if I want to hand it to you in person?”

“Well-”

“We’re proper friends now, you and I,” she pouted further. “We drank an entire bottle of wine, Lex. Can’t go back on that.”

“Proper friends?” she repeated.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Clarke asked, a mock flicker of hurt in her expression.

Lexa shook her head and backtracked. A Clarke with hurt feelings was decidedly the worst. “I just don’t usually make friends so easily, I suppose. Anya says I give off a scary vibe sometimes.”

“Anya?” Clarke repeated, eyes unfocused.

“Yeah, I mean I would really only accept that sort of comment from someone I’m close with. And I suppose it might be true.”

Clarke sat back on the couch and positioned herself so that her shin was parallel to Lexa’s thigh, the sagging of the couch making it hard for their weights not to shift towards each other. Despite that contact, Lexa found it at least easier to speak at this distance.

Currently, the girl in question was frowning at her, head tilted, considering Lexa’s features. With a soft voice, she told her, “I don’t think you look scary at all.”

“No?”

“I don’t know what this ‘Anya’ person is talking about,” Clarke shook her head. “I’d want to be friends with you – I do.” Proud of her assessment, she nodded once and held her hand out to Lexa.

Lexa took the hand as they shook on a secret deal. “Lovely. Friends it is.”

Lexa wasn’t quite sure she was supposed to feel as strange around Clarke as she had been feeling in such an early stage of friendship, but she decided to shove her wine-induced thought process down where it couldn’t be thought of until Clarke left. And so, they continued to watch Netflix into the late hours of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, PLEASE let me know if you like how it's going so far. I absolutely thrive on positive reviews. Thank you for reading, lovelies.


	3. Chapter 3 - Spiritual Uncertainties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I never update this fast. Please enjoy it while it lasts. While you were gone, Clarke and Lexa drank one more bottle of wine, and continued to (inadvertently) snuggle. Neither really remembers that much other than sitting closely together. Enjoy ~

~~~~Clarke paced back and forth between her bed and desk. “You should have been there, Raven,” she shook her head.

Raven’s voice came from the phone laying nearby, volume increased by the speakerphone. “From what you said, I’m not really sure I would’ve wanted to interrupt that.”

“Okay, I call you to reassure me, and this is what happens. Some help you are,” Clarke scowled. She paced back and forth another few times, a constant motion that could preoccupy her limbs.

“The best you’ve got,” Raven reminded her. “Okay so back up, you make pizza and drink wine, find a second bottle, and then cuddling on the couch afterwards means you’ve only just made a _friend_?”

“We were not _cuddling_ , not at all,” Clarke hissed fervently back. “You’re taking this all out of proportion.”

“Taking this all out of proportion would be assuming you guys had already jumped each other.”

“ _Raven_.”

“What?”

“You’re really making my anxiety skyrocket here,” she said, taking deep breaths.

Clarke had woken up in her own bed the next morning, only a small headache from her alcoholic adventures of the previous night. She turned over to escape the morning sunlight and buried her face into her pillow. A warm smile crept on her lips, though; memories of crust-stuffing and television critiquing preventing her from being able to get back to sleep.

But Clarke’s smile turned into a frown.

She’d known she was bisexual since high school, and was completely comfortable in her preference. She’d dated both men and women before, and none of her best friends looked the other way when she’d come out about it.

That was where Raven fit in – along with her other friends from high school, she’d been completely cool with it and literally hadn’t batted an eye. In all her glory, Raven had, of course, asked if Clarke was trying to come on to her (which Clarke truthfully denied), and had inadvertently come out as gay herself. Perhaps it was one of the reasons she was so accepting, but Clarke couldn’t be more thankful for her.

There were exceptions, of course. Your sexuality wasn’t the first thing you told a new person about yourself, Clarke supposed, but when it did come out, it wasn’t always perceived with grace. Other friends she’d tried to make at college made an effort to accept it, but the incorrect notion that Clarke would automatically be attracted to them seemed to be a problem. It was for this reason that she never denied her bisexuality to those who asked, but didn’t necessarily care about anyone’s opinion on it.

Raven convinced her that the insecure females Clarke had attempted to make friends with weren’t worth it, and she’d agreed wholeheartedly. Of course, most of her male friends had thought it was something to sexualize, assuming she was into threesomes. This was not the case, and so she began avoiding ignorant people like it was her favorite new hobby.

Had she a bit more tolerance for that sort of behavior, she might’ve made more friends at college. Though, she had Raven and some great friends from her art classes, and that was all she needed to be happy.

But now, there was Lexa.

Clarke really, _truly_ hoped Lexa was one of the kinds of people who wouldn’t leave her hurting. That wasn’t the kind of vibe she was getting from her neighbor last night. It was 2017, after all, and perhaps that would mean there was a greater chance of Lexa being progressive enough to understand that she just wanted to make a friend, not immediately take her to bed.

Clarke smushed her face further into her pillow with a groan. And that was the other thing. It was kind of hard to convince someone you weren’t attracted to them by bringing over wine and invading their space all night. Lexa probably was already calling the authorities to report a sexual predator.

Her thoughts kind of went out of control after that, and she called Raven in a panic. In hind’s sight, it wasn’t a great idea, but it was the best she had. She was now nervously burning a hole in her carpeted floors.

“Okay I’m really only kidding, Griffin,” Raven tried. “Deep breaths. Did she seem uncomfortable?”

“No. A little? I don’t know!” Clarke breathed, pacing back around her bedroom. “Not to be the one to defend drunken behavior, but you know how weirdly clingy I get. It’s like I’m completely oblivious that I’m in your face until it’s too late.”

“This is true,” Raven said, and Clarke could imagine her nodding. “I’ve seen many a boy take it as the signal to lean in and go for it.”

Clarke let out a long, exasperated noise and collapsed face-down on her bed. “Oh my god. I’ve ruined a perfectly good friendship.”

“Stop mumbling. Why do you care about being friends with her so much?”

“I don’t know, she’s really nice,” she insisted. “Like, as painfully aware as I now am of being in her face half the night, it’s not like she called me out on it or anything. So that’s something. And she was the one who found the second bottle of wine after we finished the first. And her smile is surprisingly amiable.”

“The witch can do more than frown?” Raven snorted. “Color me impressed.”

“She was actually sweet. Really, we watched Netflix until the time change this morning, and her company isn’t terrible at all,” Clarke added, trying not to sound too dreamy about the prospect of keeping a female friend. “Oh, and we need to talk about this whole witch thing.”

“First of all, I’m going to avoid pointing out the potential gayness of this whole situation out of respect for you,” Raven said, and Clarke blushed though her friend couldn’t see her. “Or at least until something _actually_ gay happens-”

“ _Raven-_ ”

“Second of all, please tell me she’s a confirmed witch.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, appreciating the subject change. “You know, you’ve made me paranoid.”

Her friend gasped. “What happened? Did you witness something?”

“Are you kidding? No. Just little things, here and there. And it’s not like I _actually_ believe in magic-,” she started, but was cut off by Raven’s booing.

“Just belieeeeve,” she insisted.

“Whatever, Ray. I’m going to hang up; you’ve done nothing to calm me down.”

“Okay, in all realness - I’ve seen you drunk, but I’ve also been drunk at the same time. Trust me, if she drank as much as you did, she probably wasn’t bothered in the least.”

A spark of hope ignited in Clarke’s heart, and another memory resurfaced. Lexa had warned Clarke that wine made the young woman touchy as well. The tight knot that had been furiously constricting itself further the whole morning blissfully unwound, and Clarke took a full, deep breath. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“I know,” Raven said proudly, but laughed at herself. “Are you good now, Griff? I hate to leave but I just made it to work. Go enjoy the rest of your weekend off. Maybe with the hot girl downstairs.”

“ _Raven_.”

“Seriously, I’m kidding. Maybe. You can befriend hot people. Bye!”

And she hung up. Clarke reached over to turn the speakerphone off and rolled over to stare at her ceiling.

Raven had a point. If Clarke hardly noticed how close they’d been at the time, it was likely that the other barely noticed either. And it certainly wasn’t a _crime_ to make friends with beautiful people.

Maybe she’d call Lexa.

* * *

Lexa had been pacing back and forth nervously between her desk and bed. Anya was on the speakerphone, trying to calm her down.

“It was kind of hazy, but oh my god Anya. Why am I like this when drunk? Why?”

“Lightweight,” Anya snorted into the receiver.

“Not helping, sis. There was two full bottles of wine.”

“Look, you’re worried you were flirty? Didn’t you say she was too?”

“It was _hazy_ ,” Lexa repeated. “And I wasn’t trying to. I don’t think she was trying to. Oh my god. What if she thinks I was coming on to her, Anya? Oh my god, _oh my god_ -”

“Literally, stop,” Anya interrupted, ever impatient. “Do you like her or not?”

“We just met.”

“Doesn’t answer the question. Is she pretty?”

Lexa blushed, incredibly thankful that they were separated by the distances between their phones. “That’s really not the point. Look, I only want to be friends with her. It’s like, a thing to be friends with your upstairs neighbor, I’m pretty sure.”

“I still don’t see why anyone that’s that loud could possibly be attractive to you.”

“Anya, I never said I was attracted to her.”

“True. I’m now imagining her as a horribly unattractive green ogre with gigantic, loud feet.”

“Never said that either. Just, please help me stop panicking,” Lexa begged.

Similarly to Clarke, she’d sat up first thing after waking up and immediately worried about the entire evening. They’d been far too comfortable in their close proximities to be appropriate, Lexa decided. After finishing the first bottle of wine, she’d decided it would be a wonderful idea to find another in her fridge for Clarke and her to top off while they finished the first season of Black Mirror. Not that anything more happened than them continuing to sit _very_ closely together even while Lexa continued to avoid their proximity the rest of the night, but still…She felt mostly responsible for how unclear the last night had been.

“Does she know how gay you are?”

“Why do you have to say it like that?” Lexa blushed further. Of course, like Clarke, she’d known of her sexuality at a young age. Put out, she added, “Of course not.”

Anya used a gentler voice this time. “Then you don’t have to tell her, if you’re so worried.”

Similarly to Clarke, Lexa was never one to outright yell that she was a lesbian when she made new friends. Which, let’s face it, was not often. In fact, she barely told anyone. Not unless they could be trusted. She’d had significantly less luck being well-recepted in that department, and was pretty okay with only a handful of close friends and Anya knowing. After all, her sister didn’t even have a defined sexuality. Anya had insisted that “questioning” was a sexuality in and of itself, and Lexa chose to respect that.

“I don’t want her to even suspect it,” Lexa mumbled, still worried.

“You sure you don’t like her?” Anya asked. It wasn’t meant to be nosy, and she said it in such a caring voice, that Lexa couldn’t help but answer honestly.

“I’m not denying that she’s cute, okay? But I barely know her, and I’m not falling in love anytime soon.” Lexa picked up the phone and turned off the speakerphone, bringing her device closer to her ear.

“Alright, I believe you,” her sister conceded. “Just, if you’re serious about making a new friend, don’t do that thing where you avoid them instead because you get nervous. That kind of creates the opposite effect.”

Lexa, with a self-depreciating laugh, expressed her gratitude. “I’ll try my best. Thanks, mom.”

“You're welcome, sweetie.”

“No really, thank you for helping. I feel kind of better,” Lexa shrugged, though her sister couldn’t see.

“And remember, sometimes it’s just a drunk thing. People get affectionate, and it’s nothing to worry about. When in doubt, blame it on the alcohol. Repeat it with me-,”

“Thank you, Anya,” she interrupted. Weirdly, the pep talk had cheered her up.

“No problem. I’m at my coffee shop, so I’ll talk to you soon, kid.”

“Later.”

Lexa hung up and threw the phone on her bed. Soon after, she decided to follow its path and flop on her back. Alarmingly she heard a similar thud on the floor above her, and wondered what Clarke was doing.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone buzzed underneath her again. Lexa brought the phone up to her ear without checking to see who it was. “Anya? Did you forget something?”

A voice with a slightly lower octave than her sister’s came out of the receiver. “No, it’s uh, Clarke. Is this Lexa?”

Lexa swallowed down her surprise. “Oh! Hi! Yes, uh, it’s me. Lexa.”

They’d exchanged numbers last night? Oh, yes, Lexa remembered, when she was helping Clarke out the door. The blonde had reached for her phone wordlessly and gave Lexa hers, the two automatically entering their contact information. She’d almost forgotten, mostly due to the fact that she’d immediately fallen asleep after her neighbor left.

“Okay cool,” came the voice on the other end. Lexa could hear the way Clarke smiled when she spoke, and it was contagious. “Well, I wasn’t exactly sure if you were free or not, but I was thinking maybe I could actually give you your shirt back.”

“Wonderful suggestion. I actually forgot to return your shirt, too, so I think that makes us even. Want me to come upstairs?” she asked, not sure of what Clarke had planned.

“Yeah, why not. Do you know the way?” she joked.

“I think I can handle it,” Lexa chuckled. “I’ve got the Google Maps app.”

“Good for you, being prepared.”

“I’ll be up in an hour and a half.”

“See you then, Lexa.”

“Bye, Clarke.”

Lexa hung up the phone and held it on her chest, her earlier worries forgotten. Clarke inviting her up was definitely a good sign. And since there was no alcohol involved, practically nothing could go wrong.

She smiled and pushed herself off the bed. Breakfast was eaten, a shower was had, and Lexa was soon heading up to her neighbor’s apartment. Her first time walking up the stairs really made her feel sorry for how Clarke had to climb them every day. At least she was probably in shape.

Standing in a light day dress, she rapped her knuckles on the door a few times, suddenly just a bit nervous to see her new friend again. She focused instead on what Clarke’s apartment must look like. Lexa didn’t have to wait long to find out when the blonde in question swung the door open a few seconds later. With a smile, she greeted, “Hey! Come on in.”

She walked into the apartment and her nose was filled with the smell of paint and art supplies. It was not unlike her high school art classroom, but she found it was mixed in with the scent of cinnamon and a warm, lived-in apartment. Piles of finished art pieces stood leaning on a shelf holding several sketchbooks. Recycled containers of various types held rows of colored pencils, paint brushes, and other tools she couldn’t quite name. A tarp was laid down in the corner of the living room (which she realized was half-converted into an art studio) and Lexa imagined Clarke working on the contents of her portfolio on the couch nearby.

She followed her neighbor into a mirrored version of her own kitchen. This one had similar kitchen chairs in a different color, and Lexa, after sitting on one, realized she was being offered tea.

“Yes, please,” she accepted, and noticed that Clarke was staring at her dress. “Is there something wrong?” Lexa felt as though she was asking that question a lot lately.

“What? Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve just never seen you in clothing that wasn’t, like, dark,” Clarke replied, tilting her head at the dress, and then snapping it up. “Wait, I hope that didn’t come out rudely. It looks nice.”

“I do happen to have lighter colors in my wardrobe,” Lexa sniffed, but mockingly. “I rarely choose to wear them, it’s true. But look at what a nice day it is out. It’s spring and sunny. It felt appropriate.”

Clarke laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you defend your wardrobe choices. Like I said, it really looks good on you.”

“I’m flattered,” Lexa hummed and accepted the cup of tea she was handed.

Clarke herself was wearing grey capris-sweatpants that looked as comfortable as anything, complimented with a white t-shirt and dark hoodie. There was a little patch on the sleeve, Lexa noticed, that had a paint spill on it. She was looking at the sunlight that filtered through the sunroof (that Lexa refused to acknowledge she was jealous of, as her apartment definitely didn’t have one), oblivious of the halo appearing in her blonde hair from the light. It was sort of beautiful.

“It _is_ a nice day outside,” her neighbor was saying. Clarke turned back to her. “Okay, hear me out. I know I got you up here to swap shirts, which we _will_ do this time, but I’m also in favor of taking advantage of the weekend to further our new friendship. What do you think?”

Lexa blinked. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about a walk in the park?” Clarke asked. “Central.”

 _That kind of furthering, thank god_ , Lexa sighed internally. “I would actually love to. I finished all my homework, so I’m good to go.”

“Wonderful. We can finish our tea, of course,” she added as an afterthought. “I’ll get your shirt from my room.”

Whilst Clark retrieved the silk material, Lexa reached into her own bag she’d brought along and pulled the once coffee-soiled top out.

Upon her return, Clarke gasped, “You got the stain out? Oh Lexa, thank you. Seriously. This is one of the few nice shirts I can actually afford on my salary.”

“No problem. I know a thing or two about how to remove stains. Not to brag, but I was a pretty hyperactive child. Lots of mud and blood stains to take care of,” Lexa boasted.

“Ooh, I’m impressed,” Clarke whistled. “But seriously, there’s not even a hint of a stain. No remnants, nothing. What kind of witchcraft-,” she started, but then stopped.

“It was the magical power of knowing not to let the stain set,” Lexa shrugged, and sipped her tea.

Clarke grinned at her then, and put her own shirt back in her room. “Sorry for the mess, by the way. I’d lie and say it’s usually way neater, but this is actually a good state of cleanliness for my apartment.”

“I couldn’t care less, Clarke. It’s homey, lived-in. My apartment could really use that touch,” Lexa sighed.

“Are you kidding? Your apartment is gorgeous. Very fancy.”

“You can thank my sister for personally decorating it. I really didn’t bring a lot of my stuff from home, so she decided it needed her version of a homey touch. Which means, apparently, lots of useless decor.”

“It’s very fancy,” Clarke repeated.

Lexa her a look of disbelief, and so she continued, “Seriously, I was in awe when I came in. I’m sure you can fix it up better. If you want, I could paint you something for your apartment.”

“Seriously?” Lexa perked up at Clarke’s offer. “You’d be up for that?”

“Yeah!” Clarke offered. “A painting, a mural, really anything. Free of charge. It’s not like I hate painting, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Free of charge,” Lexa repeated with a frown.

“I told you last night, we’re proper friends.” Clarke had dropped into the seat next to her sometime during their conversation, and she’d briefly laid a hand on Lexa’s arm to further convince her.

Lexa glanced at the hand and then gazed into pleading blue eyes. The hand soon dropped and she realized she should respond to Clarke’s insistent look. “Yeah, okay.”

She was rewarded with a wide smile, a tongue just barely peeking out between teeth. “Brilliant. We’ll sort out the details later.”

Once both teacups were emptied, the two women exited the apartment and made their way down the detested stairs. They stopped only to allow Lexa to throw her shirt in her own apartment, grab a leather jacket, and don a pair of sunglasses.

“Ready?” Clarke asked as Lexa locked her door.

“Ready,” she turned and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay there wasn't too much of a progression in this chapter, and they fact that they're denying they want more than a friendship is, well.... I promised a slow burn, didn't I? Please drop a comment if you'd like! XO


	4. Chapter 4 - Magical Salve

“Clarke,” Lexa asked, knocking her sunglasses down from the top of her head. “Did you ever see your mom about your arm?”

Presently they were walking side by side down the path in Central Park. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, possibly the nicest day they’d experienced in weeks. So, of course, the park was crowded. Bikers, joggers, and walkers meandered past them at several different paces. They were near Fifth Avenue where the foot traffic was heavy, so they set out to find a path less traveled, constantly conversing along the way.

“Yeah, actually,” Clarke nodded. “Her hospital is only a few blocks over, and she snuck me in pretty quickly after I called you.”

“Good, I'm glad," she grinned. Clarke was quickly realizing that Lexa’s smile suited her much better than any scowl. They didn't always last long however, and her expression turned into one of concern. “Did you need stitches or anything?”

“No! Which was the weird thing. Had you not put that magical salve on it, my mom says it wouldn’t have healed so quickly.”

“Magical salve,” Lexa scoffed. “The word you’re looking for here is antibiotic cream.”

Clarke knew perfectly well what antibiotic cream was. She was starting to wonder if it was getting weird, her insinuating Lexa had some sort of special power. Well, probably not. It wasn’t like Lexa caught it, either. At this point it was just fun to see if the she’d pick up on Clarke’s wording.

So far, she was oblivious.

“Alright, alright. But it’s healing, and that’s what matters. I just want to be able to lift my arm to paint,” Clarke huffed.

“It wasn’t broken, though,” Lexa pointed out, noticing the lack of a brace. She looked downward in the direction of the arm, so Clarke held it out for the other young woman to inspect. A finger nearly touched her skin, and Clarke was already anticipating goosebumps. Lexa had since respected her personal space since the last night, however, so she really just looked at the edges of a new bandage placed there. Lexa tilted her head. “It’s so bruised, still.”

Clarke put her arm down. She was only ticklish, really. Sensitive skin. If Raven had a gentle enough touch, she’d probably make the hair on Clarke’s arm stand up, too.

Probably.

She glanced away but told Lexa that it was hurting much less, and Lexa told her she was glad to hear it.

Lexa’s dress billowed in the breeze that blew past them. The fabric reached somewhere between her upper thigh and knee. It had been pretty cold for the entirety of the school year, so Clarke had barely ever seen Lexa around in clothing that revealed so much of her skin. She'd soon discovered that the other girl’s long legs were just as tan as her arms, colored evenly and spattered with freckles here and there. The leather jacket accompanying the dress made the outfit look a little more like the Lexa she was used to, and Clarke supposed she was mostly taken aback by the prospect of the girl actually wearing white. It’d taken her a full minute to recover when she'd first walked through Clarke’s apartment earlier.

Lexa, was versatile. In more ways than one.

Their first encounter was so long ago that Clarke had forgotten just how much Lexa’s appearance contrasted with her true demeanor. After she’d called Raven and calmed down, she realized that she and Lexa really just had, weirdly, an incredibly compatible friendship. It was probably the fastest she’d taken a liking to someone, and that was really saying something for Clarke.

It was delighting her to no end, how easy it was to talk to Lexa. They hardly noticed the people passing by them on their walk anymore and, giving up on their search of finding a more private path in the park, they wandered aimlessly and kept chatting away.

“So this final project of yours,” Lexa was saying in response to the latest turn in their conversation. “Does it have to be about anything in particular? Like, any specific subject?”

“Kind of,” Clarke shrugged one shoulder. “It’s complicated. The professor told us to pour our hearts into something, make it beautiful, and then told us not to turn it in unless we knew it was something we were really proud of.” She caught Lexa’s eye. “Basically, the lesson is to love what we create, wholeheartedly.”

“That’s kind of sweet,” Lexa said, holding her gaze. “Truthfully, I’ve never been great at art. I was always scared the teachers would hate whatever I tried to make. I think they probably did,” she added and crinkled her nose.

Clarke’s eyes lingered on the movement. “I’m sure they didn’t. That’s the great thing about art. You can work as hard and long on a project as you want, and it can still come out shitty, but it’ll mean something to you. If you like it, that’s all that matters. My professors, at least, recognize dedication and love for a subject when they see it.”

“As a C+ art student, it sounds way easier coming from your mouth,” Lexa remarked and finally looked away. Clarke refocused her gaze to the path in front of them. They stepped aside to let some bikers pass and continued on.

They talked further as the path wound around. They saw some dogs chasing Frisbees and decided to wander off and stop in the grass for a short bit. Hot from the sun, Clarke led them to a relatively underpopulated area where a large, blossoming cherry tree offered them some shade. A few pink petals littered the ground, and Lexa sat promptly in a pile of them, cross-legged.

“This tree bloomed a few weeks early,” she told Clarke. Lexa must’ve noticed the raised eyebrows (of genuine curiosity, might she add), and explained, “I really like flowers.”

Her hair was done up in two French braids, not a lock out of place. Clarke would kill for hair that easily tamed. She kind of had a fascination for how effortlessly Lexa seemed to be put together. It was just an artistic kind of beauty she could appreciate. But then, Lexa was tugging her hair-ties out, and shaking out brown waves that were tumbling down her shoulders. She laid down in the flower petals, closing her eyes as her hair fanned out extraordinarily underneath her.

It was an absolutely breathtaking scene to behold. Clarke looked away to focus on something else, _anything_ _else_ , but, purely from an artist’s perspective, she couldn’t help but regard again the beauty of the scene before her. It really wasn’t fair to be born with a face that attractive. Lexa looked like one of those women carefully posed and instructed behind a camera lens, with wardrobe colors strategically chosen to aesthetically compliment her background. Her art mind took over, seeing Lexa’s form in brushstrokes and vibrant colors of paint.

She realized she was staring too long. Lexa called, “Clarke?”

She was peeking at her out of one eye, gaze a little concerned.

“Sorry, daydreaming,” Clarke excused herself. Still caught up in the ideas flashing before her, she laid down next to the brunette.

Clarke decided that perhaps what she’d earlier mistaken for attraction was probably jealousy. Though she realized she probably sounded like a broken record, she really thought she’d never seen anybody so put-together in her life. She definitely envied Lexa there.

“If you like the dress, I can show you where I got it,” Lexa offered, misreading Clarke’s gaze entirely.

She almost laughed it off. Truthfully, it wasn’t the first time Clarke burned a hole through somebody, imagining herself recreating the image of them and the feeling they gave off on canvas. She had never attempted to clarify before, and she wasn't about to start now. “I don’t think I could afford it.”

“You just have to know where to look, and find the sales,” Lexa insisted. Her eyes were shut again and she was leaning with her arms underneath her head, spreading out. She looked as though she could take a nap right there. “Did I mention, before, that I originally wanted to go into fashion?”

“I thought you were always set out to be a lawyer, like the rest of your family,” Clarke said, and looked over at Lexa.

“Nope,” she sighed. “There was a brief moment, my senior year of high school, where I wanted to do something I wanted, for once. Not listen to my family and their preconceived ideas about where I should end up.”

“So, what happened?”

Lashes fluttered and eyes peered over to Clarke. With a smirk, Lexa replied, “Remember? I can’t draw for shit.”

Clarke held her gaze, her smile sad. “Aw come on, Lexa. If it was what you really wanted to do, you should’ve gone for it anyway, and I’m sure they’d would’ve helped you learn.”

“You know, I thought about that possibility halfway through law school. But, I grew to love the major I chose, too. It’s just a little late, is all,” she said and closed her eyes yet again. “I’ve thought about maybe returning to school if I want to in the future, but it's expensive, and with a degree in law… It’s a little weird, that pair of majors, right?”

“Not if you love both.”

“I suppose.”

Clarke rolled over towards Lexa but stopped on her stomach, leaning up on her elbows. She attempted to make Lexa feel better. “Maybe you can teach me how to shop sometime. I could try to teach you to draw."

"You'd do that?" Her eyes opened again, never finding an appropriate moment to stay closed. She was still on her back, so Lexa lifted until she was on her elbows too. “Really? And you want to go shopping together?”

Clarke felt her own mouth curve into a grin and she nodded her head. “It could be fun. I get my paycheck from work this week, so we can shop any time after that.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lexa beamed and sat up fully this time.

Clarke joined her, cross-legged on the grass and tried to stop her smile from turning mischievous as she noticed more than a few petals had got themselves tangled in Lexa’s curls. It only made Clarke want to paint more. She sniggered, unable to control herself, as she considered not telling Lexa of the petals. Clarke imagined having them walk around the city all afternoon like that.

But Lexa was staring at her, lips just open in concentration, and Clarke’s train of thought was lost. Her hand was moving forward, reaching out to Clarke, invading her personal space again. Her breath caught in her throat, a shaky demand of what her neighbor was doing on the tip of her tongue, when Lexa’s hand stopped to pick a petal out of Clarke's own hair. _Get ahold of yourself, Griffin_.

“Clarke,” she murmured, almost admonishing her. “You’ve got these all over you.”

“You too,” she told Lexa, and when the other young woman pouted, Clarke felt laughter bubbling out of her chest.

Lexa continued to look put out for half a second, but when Clarke started trying to remove the petals too, she softened. Shaking their hair out proved to remove most of them, but a few were still stuck on Lexa. She reached her hands to comb through brunette waves with her fingertips, unthinking. An apology was already on her lips, but then Lexa was reaching around her to shake the last of petals from Clarke’s hair too. Sure heat displayed itself on her cheeks, she swept one last, futile time through the ends of dark tresses, reveling in how Lexa’s hair felt just as soft as it looked.

They leaned back from each other. While she was thinking of something clever enough to diffuse the tension between them, Clarke's stomach grumbled loudly and broke the silence for them.

Lexa quirked an amused eyebrow. “Hungry?”

“Maybe.” Clarke turned away to locate a certain food truck (and definitely not to hide her embarrassment). “How do you feel about gourmet hot dogs?”

Lexa's eyes followed to where she was pointing. She trailed behind Clarke as they stood and made their way back to the path. Bikers were whizzing past in a small group causing a few passersby to step off the walkway in order to give them space. Clarke started to tell Lexa about the food truck she visited frequently, describing that they offered unique condiments and sides, rather than simple ketchup and mustard on buns.

They could already smell the cart a few feet away. Clarke’s stomach decided to vocalize its needs once more, so she hurried and ordered before it could betray her again. She hoped she wasn’t inhaling the hot dog too fast, as she’d definitely forgotten to eat breakfast. But then she realized Lexa was finishing hers nearly as fast.

“S’good, right?”

“Mhm. Amazing.”

They both had full mouths and kept walking. “I’ve been to this cart so many times. It’s, like, my favorite. Seriously, they’re the best in the city.”

“So if these are the best hot dogs in the city, and New York City has the best hot dogs in the world, then by that logic-”

“These are the best hot dogs in the world,” declared Clarke. “There’s nothing that can satisfy a hungry stomach in the park better.”

“They’re certainly the best I’ve had. I’ve never heard of anything like them.” Lexa agreed and finished hers.

Clarke was savoring the last bites of her food, half-wondering how ashamed she would be to go back and get a second. She turned around to glance at how far they’d strayed from the food truck when she realized a biker was barreling towards them at a harrowing speed.

It all went in slow motion from there; Lexa obliviously trying to get Clarke’s attention for something, the biker realizing his path was not clear, and Clarke yanking Lexa’s elbow hard. The biker seemed to tap on his brakes, but infuriatingly yelled at the two girls to get out of the way. Clarke, of course, lost her footing trying to do just that. Her hand was still wrapped around Lexa’s arm, but apparently Lexa was a little more coordinated than her. Expecting to hit the ground hard at any second, she was surprised when she opened her eyes moments later, hanging in midair.

 _What_?

Clarke blinked up at Lexa, who was holding her up halfway from the ground in a sort of dip. The ends of brunette curls tickled her face. A surprisingly sturdy grip was wrapped around her waist and underneath her back, holding her up. It was a wonder she’d had the strength to prevent them both from tumbling.

This was unexpected. “Whoa.”

“You good?” Lexa frowned and looked in the direction the biker went. “What a dick.”

They righted themselves and adjusted their own clothing. Clarke silently cursed the fact that she was never anything but clumsy in front of Lexa. Was it possible to act normally and not make a complete fool of herself? Just, like, _once_?

“Your reflexes,” Clarke started, her voice alarmingly high-pitched. “What the fuck?”

Lexa smirked at her response. “Would you believe I actually go to the gym?”

“I mean that explains how strong you are, but like, you handled that much better than me.” Clarke shook her head, and then looked down with a grief-stricken expression. “Aw, seriously?”

Lexa glanced down at the abandoned last bite of Clarke’s hot dog. It was a tragedy, really. Even if it literally only cost her $3.00, there was nothing like the final bite of a food that was making half your morning better. It was probably embarrassing to look this heartbroken over a _goddamn hot dog_ , but Lexa apparently understood. She at least tried to hide her amusement at Clarke's utter disappointment.

She tugged Clarke’s arm and said, “Come on. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Clarke had never looked so gratefully at someone in her whole life.

* * *

After they’d had their fill of Central Park, Clarke got Lexa back by paying for ice cream. They talked endlessly about life, what was going on in each of theirs, and other random things. Lexa learned of the coffee shop Clarke worked in. Clarke learned more about Lexa’s family business that she was to take over, and that Lexa was content to rebel in little ways against her family for planning her future out for her. Hence the punk outfits, Clarke assumed.

Soon enough, they were headed back to their apartment building. Clarke remembered her own punk phase growing up, so she dared to share awful old pictures with Lexa from Facebook where she’d clumsily applied eyeliner on herself. It truly gave her a terrible image, as a teenager. Thankfully, it really was just a phase, and Clarke came to her senses. Lexa, it seemed, gave more thought to the look and it truly worked for her. Clarke was shown pictures of how her neighbor looked in high school as well, and she was utterly shocked at how normal Lexa looked - as if the punk stage just came later in life. Her face was free of any makeup, and Clarke was in awe of how beautiful she looked even then.

“I seriously love your lipstick, though,” she admitted once they started talking about makeup again. “Dark colors are awesome, but I’ve never been able to rock that look...as you’ve seen.”

“Nonsense,” Lexa waved her hand. “Everybody looks good in dark lipstick. You just have to believe you look awesome and that’s what makes it work. Total confidence. Fake it ‘til you make it.”

“Look good, feel good. Except the other way around,” Clarke affirmed. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Lexa said with a scoff and a smile. “Wait here.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow at her but remained on her couch, pausing the Netflix that been on the background absently. They weren’t really watching it, so she supposed it didn’t matter. The brunette soon returned with her hair pulled back in a bun and something in hand. It was soon revealed to be an array of lipsticks.

“Alright, which do you like best?”

Clarke looked at her, mouth agape in wonder, and looked down at the vibrant colors to choose from. There were several pinks and purples to choose from, but she was drawn to a particular deep red. She pointed to it and Lexa nodded, setting the others on the table.

“Perfect,” Lexa said and dropped on the couch next to Clarke. She opened the cap and Clarke realized it was the kind where you applied it with a separate handle, much like nail polish. “Do you have much experience with these?”

“Not at all,” Clarke answered. On the off chance that she wore lipstick, she’d just used ones that worked like lip balm sticks.

“Hold still, then. I don’t have a portable mirror with me.” Lexa leaned forward and used long fingers to hold Clarke’s jaw in place, instructing her to pout her lips out a bit.

Looking at Clarke’s lips in concentration, Lexa’s measured exhales came in little puffs against her cheek. The lipstick was being steadily brushed onto her lips, and Clarke was willing her heart to stop whatever wild thrumming it had started in her chest. Well aware that she was not immune to close proximity with pretty girls, she wished she would at least calm down a little. For heaven’s sake, _it was only Lexa_.

She tried not to concentrate on the way Lexa’s mouth was mirroring hers, as if she could keep Clarke’s lips steady just by keeping hers open. She also tried not to focus on the way Lexa’s breath was warm and smelled like the vanilla ice cream and waffle cone she’d had earlier. Clarke especially was not thinking about the way Lexa’s thumb on her jawline was threatening to give her goosebumps again.

But then Lexa was smirking in satisfaction and her hand was gone. Her voice brought Clarke’s attention back from whatever train track it'd derailed off of. “Want to look in the bathroom mirror? It’s good.”

She nodded, not trusting anything intelligent to come out of her mouth. They stood up from each other to go to the bathroom mirror and Clarke looked at herself in amazement. Lexa came in behind her and smiled, confident she’d done well. Clarke wholeheartedly agreed.

“You can keep this color if you want,” Lexa said, pushing the tube of lipstick into her hand. “I have plenty more, and it works better for you than it does me.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Clarke said. The idea was incredulous; Lexa probably looked good in any shade of lipstick.

“Really, It’s not my favorite,” she replied. “On myself, that is. I kinda love it on you.”

Clarke physically glared at herself in the mirror to prevent any color rising to her cheeks. It nearly worked. “I’m sure it looks great on you.”

“No really, you should see,” Lexa shook her head. She reached over to get a makeup wipe from behind the mirror and quickly made the color on her own lips disappear. “Here, you try putting it on me. Two reasons - Firstly, that this is going to prove that it looks way better on you. Secondly, you should get the hang of trying to put it on. Not that it's too hard.”

“I _am_ an artist you know.”

“Doesn’t every brush have a different feel?” Lexa pointed out.

“I suppose,” Clarke said and shrugged one shoulder. She doubted it would be that hard to apply lipstick.

But suddenly she was distracted because it was happening again. Lexa leaned back against the counter and Clarke got as close as she dared, leaving an appropriate amount of space between their hips. She opened the lipstick and wiped the excess pigment on the sides. Now came time to place a hand under Lexa’s chin to tilt it up, and then she was concentrating on dabbing the color across patient lips. She was definitely too busy preventing herself from trembling under pressure to notice how warm and soft the skin under her hand was. It really proved to be a little more difficult than she thought – applying the lipstick evenly, that is.

“The consistency is different from the regular paint I use, I'll give you that,” Clarke whispered, making sure the highly pigmented lines where neat and clear. She leaned back and released Lexa so they could turn towards the mirror. “How’s that?”

“See? I knew you could do it,” Lexa nudged her with an elbow. She tilted her head from side to view Clarke’s handiwork.

“I still disagree with what you said before. We both look good,” Clarke concluded. She mimicked Lexa’s display in the mirror, the both of them dissolving into giggles when it became a competition to see who could make the strangest face.

“Ooh, that’s hot,” Lexa pointed at a particularly unruly face Clarke was making that involved some sort of cross between a Joey Tribbiani “ _How you doin’_  ?" look and a simper.

“Okay, hold that pose,” Clarke demanded when they both looked truly unattractive, whipping out her phone.

Each of them posed for the camera, and Clarke held down her finger on the trigger long enough to get a few shots of them losing it any pose they had planned. Lexa argued, “Don’t you dare post anything.”

“You don’t even follow me on any social media,” Clarke pointed out. “You wouldn’t know if I did. Besides, I'm just going to add this," she said, closing in on a particular photo in which face Lexa was making a seriously unattractive face, "To my phone contacts. So I can see this every time you call."

"Beautiful," Lexa grimaced, but Clarke could see the grin threatening to reveal itself. "Send me those, so I can do that."

They shook their heads at each other, each amused at the other’s antics, and went back to the couch to finish a few more episodes of their show. It was an unforeseen, eventful day spent together, and Clarke was once again left wondering how she hadn’t gotten her ass in gear to hang out with Lexa earlier.

Later that night, back in her own bed, Clarke would smile to herself as she found notifications on her phone, blowing up from someone with the username Lexa_Woods_20 following her on nearly all of her social media accounts (and a "like" on the photo she'd decided to post). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took a little longer because I got a little obsessed with another reviewer's story and accidentally stayed up until 6am reading. [So, uh, shout-out to DreamsAreMyWords for that. I blame (and love) you.] Thus, my sleep schedule and creative process has been skewed for a couple days. I hope this chapter is satisfactory and please please please leave a comment! They really help me wake up in the morning and get the energy to write faster. I hope the next one goes a little smoother. XO  
> (p.s. I kinda based Lexa here from a friend of mine obsessed with makeup. Literally, she has 40 different colourpop lip colors. I kinda envy her.)


	5. Chapter 5 - Strange Coincidences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I realize my line breaks weren't transferring over from my Word document, so I'm trying to be better about that. I went back and fixed previous chapters. Sorry you've had to put up with it!

Five days had gone by since their walk in Central Park. It was the weekend once again, and Lexa was about to text Clarke for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

Their texts grew to be exhanged constantly. The conversation flowed easily and endlessly. Clarke dropped by as much as their homework schedules had allowed so that they could continue to watch their show. Though she never stayed as long as the first night they’d hung out (she needed to wake up in the morning), Clarke, Lexa learned, was one of those people who took a while to say goodbye. For example, she would glance at Lexa’s watch and yawn, saying it was high time she get going, and repeat that bit every ten minutes for the next half hour.

 The girls kept finding more things to talk about and getting carried away. It wasn’t until Clarke finally stood from the couch and half-heartedly made her way to the door that she would realize she was unintentionally stalling. Lexa would only make matters worse and continue to talk to her until they _actually_ arrived at the door - after all, it took two people to stop a good conversation. She half-wondered if it was she herself who said long goodbyes. Either way, it was hard to leave good company.

At the end of the week, Clarke’s payday came. Lexa had nearly forgotten what she’d promised until her phone lit up, the photo she’d assigned to Clarke’s contact information flashing in front of her face. (In retaliation to what Clarke had done, she’d used a close-up a very, _very_ terrible picture they’d taken together while trying on lipstick. It always cheered her up.)

 ** _C:_** _Hey, Lex_!

 **_L:_ ** _What’s up?_

 **_C:_ ** _Busy this weekend?_

 **_L:_ ** _My schedule’s booked._

 **_C:_ ** _Really? How so?_

 **_L:_ ** _My neighbor’s forcing me to finish Black Mirror with her._

 **_C:_ ** _“Forcing.” Don’t act like you don’t love it._

 **_L:_ ** _Who, me?_

 **_C:_ ** _You nearly cried watching San Junipero._

 **_L:_ ** _Because they were a beautiful couple, and no one’s happy ending was ruined!_

 **_C:_ ** _Yeah, for once. That’s true._

 **_L:_ ** _So what’s up?_

 **_C:_ ** _Oh, right! Shopping spree?_

 **_C:_ ** _*Limited budget spree. I try to pay bills from time to time._

 **_L:_ ** _Yeah! Free now?_

 **_C:_ ** _I’ll get my wallet._

 **_C:_ ** _(I’m trying to catch it, but it’s running away from me. I think it knows what’s coming.)_

 **_L:_ ** _Good Luck! Wallets can be pesky, but I promise we’ll go easy on it._

 **_L:_ ** _P.S. Door’s unlocked._

While she waited, Lexa threw on a cropped red hoodie and paired it with her high-waisted jeans. The bathroom light flickered on overhead and, finding a color that matched her top, she applied some lipstick. Lexa heard the door shut and listened to Clarke’s footsteps as they wandered around, trying to locate the owner of the apartment. Blonde hair soon appeared in the mirror next to her, gazing down at the full collection of lipsticks Lexa had pulled out that morning.

“Jesus, Lexa, do you have every color invented?”

“I may have gotten a little carried away with my collection,” Lexa remarked, looking at the rather large box containing all colors she held dear. She was far from upset about it, though.

“No, it’s magnificent. Are you kidding?” Clarke proclaimed. “This is like looking at a mini version of my paint supply if, you know, I focused my collection on red and purple hues.” The other girl looked Lexa in the eye via the mirror, face devoid of any telling emotion for half a second. “Right on.”

Lexa smiled at her and shook her head. She was already poking through the box, looking for a shade matching Clarke’s shirt. Thankfully, she found almost the exact tint. Staring right back at Clarke with the same devoid expression (save for one raised eyebrow), she wordlessly held up the color.

Clarke rolled her eyes in response, but sat back against the counter with a grin. She was getting used to this, Lexa assumed. More than one of their conversations led them back to this room, resulting in some shade or another being applied to her neighbor’s lips. She would’ve forced anyone else to put it on themselves, Lexa supposed, but it was more fun to put it on Clarke herself. They’d both decided this. When Lexa should’ve been forcing Clarke to practice on her own, she always found herself reaching for the other girl’s jaw instead.

In any case, it really was good for her to practice applying lipstick on others, if that was ever something she needed to have under her arsenal in the future. She definitely didn’t do it because of the way Clarke’s cheeks colored just a little, or because Lexa could see just exactly what shade of blue Clarke’s eyes were from this distance. No _way_ was it due to the amusement she experienced when telling Clarke to purse her lips a specific way. It certainly didn’t do anything to speed her heart rate up.

No, she was only doing it to give Clarke a healthy exposure to makeup if she so wished.

Lexa told Clarke look in the mirror when she was finished, and she copied the way Lexa usually looked at her handiwork in the mirror (a technique she’d actually started to take seriously), and expressed her gratitude and amazement yet again at the multitude of hues Lexa owned. Never had Lexa put so many out at once, but she correctly assumed Clarke would admire her collection.

Soon enough, the two were out on the town, taking the Friday night by storm. Lexa dragged Clarke past the gaudy, expensive department stores that she’d assumed they were going to and hit a few smaller stores in downtown Manhattan. Clarke confessed that she hadn’t focused on buying many new clothes in her college years, always feeling guilty if her expenses weren’t put towards the much-needed art supplies for her classes. It wasn’t that the girl didn’t have a sense of fashion, either, she’d just….forgotten to really worry about it (as Clarke had put).

Among many of their stops was, to Clarke’s surprise, H&M. She’d remarked that she never thought Lexa found the clothes she had in such an accessible store as they stepped through the front doors and stared up at the multiple levels of the store.

“It’s crazy how you forget what exists in downtown Manhattan when you’re so focused on schoolwork,” Clarke breathed.

They stepped on the escalators and traveled to the floor they desired, wandering around and looking at pieces of clothing that caught their eyes.

“See, if you come to certain stores at the right holidays, there’ll be so many sales you won’t know what to do,” Lexa pointed out and held up a shirt to Clarke. Clarke posed as if she were wearing the shirt, but Lexa shook her head and put the shirt down, trying another.

“It’s March,” Clarke frowned and searched through a few tops scattered on a display case. “What reason could they possible have to put on a holiday sale?”

“St. Patrick’s Day is enough of a holiday,” Lexa shrugged. She wasn’t huge on celebrating it, but she pointed out to Clarke that the whole reason they’d taken the odd route Lexa planned was to avoid all of the St. Patty’s parade-goers that were still parting in the streets outside. They’d eventually traveled to Times Square to get to this store, though, and had carefully made their way through the crowds.

“So _that_ warrants a sale? Alright, you know, I’ll take it,” she reconsidered. “You know, I was planning to get hammered tonight with Raven, but she’s supposed to be on a date, so this is a good backup.”

“Oh,” Lexa frowned. She hadn’t realized Clarke was going to celebrate, but of course her neighbor was the type to have liked to. “I’m sorry if I took you from other plans, Clarke.”

Clarke hadn’t been paying attention all that much but paused when she heard the gloom in Lexa’s voice. She set down whatever sweater she’d been looking at and came over to place two hands on Lexa’s shoulders, and Lexa felt herself being turned around to face Clark.

She ignored how hard it was to keep the disappointment on her face, but was quickly snapped out of it when Clarke’s hands squeezed her biceps, thumbs smoothing her skin once when she asked Lexa, “Why are you upset? I called you, remember? I’m the one who couldn’t even find a proper party to attend.”

Lexa softened after that and her frown disappeared into a more neutral expression. Clarke took her arms away and turned to grab her sweater again once she made sure Lexa wasn’t feeling guilty. Though she felt a little ashamed at how disappointed she felt, however temporary, Lexa couldn’t help but focus more on how grateful she was for the reassurance that Clarke didn’t mind spending time with her.

She still wasn’t accustomed to friends sticking around, and Lexa knew she was a little needy for the comfort of Clarke’s friendship.

“My parents’ firm is having a party of their own tonight,” Lexa offered. “We could go to that if you really wanted.”

“Seriously Lexa, it’s fine. I only said what I did before because it’s sort of a tradition Ray and I have. Truth be told, I’m weirdly not feeling it tonight. I’m totally fine with a night out shopping, if that’s cool with you,” Clarke replied. “I have more than enough weekends to spend partying in the future.”

“Okay, but just so you know…”

“I _know_ ,” Clarke repeated. “I’m sure your law firm is full of lovely people to party with, but there’s also the other thing.”

“What other thing?” Lexa asked. She started shifting towards the clearance section of the store that had even better deals. She brought Clarke’s attention to a blanket scarf that had a lovely design on it, and the blonde held it up to the sweater she’d been holding, pleased that they went well together.

“The other thing… How do I put it?” Clarke pondered aloud. “I’m not quite sure I want you to see me completely hammered.”

Lexa stared at her and raised an eyebrow. “So they call you Party-girl Griffin for a reason?”

Clarke’s cheeks immediately reddened and she worked her jaw up and down, no words coming out for a moment. “How- _How_? Why and how?”

Lexa sniggered as she traveled to another part of the store, Clarke hot on her heels. “I may have stalked your Instagram a little when I followed it.”

“Oh, god. You saw everything. Maximum-drunk _everything_ ,” Clarke sighed dejectedly. “That is not a pretty sight.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. Hey, don’t worry, maybe we can stop by a pub later. I’ll pay for drinks,” Lexa grinned. She had a feeling she was going to pay for that one. No sooner had she had the thought when she realized revenge was already being exacted on her.

Clarke had wandered ahead of her and led them to a particular part of the store that Lexa hadn’t even noticed was there at first. It must’ve been the new addition they were advertising.

The new lingerie addition.

This was not good. Her neighbor seemed to think the opposite, and was already sifting through bras and panties. Well, Lexa figured, perhaps this wouldn’t be awkward. Nothing weird with underwear-shopping with a girl you only knew for a week, no. Not at all.

She tried to relax and look around. They had a nice selection, at least. Besides, she hadn’t gotten new unmentionables in a while, so what could the harm be to peruse? Lexa shook off her uneasiness soon enough and actually picked out a few things for herself. Everything was half-off, so how could she turn that down?

Lexa became so distracted that when she turned to ask Clarke to repeat whatever question she’d asked, she was utterly taken aback.

At the moment, she was holding up a lacy, black, see-through bralette up to her chest and a matching thong below. Lexa looked from one undergarment to the other, and then back up at Clarke.

“I asked if you think I could rock this,” Clarke repeated.

Her throat seemed to have gone dry, for whatever reason. The normal part of her brain that was capable of speech under such circumstances seemed to have stalled. She hoped to hell whatever expression was on her face did not convey the images storming through her mind. _Oh, this particular department was such a bad one to wander into._ Absently, she wondered just what shade of red her ears had turned to make them burn as much as they currently were.

Dumbly, she nodded.

Clarke was enjoying this. She’d adopted Lexa’s earlier shit-eating grin and said, “Well, there’s no way I’m putting it back _now_.”

Lexa grimaced at herself, but she hoped as though it appeared she was making a face at Clarke. She was not immune to the charm and wiles of her neighbor, but Lexa hoped that was a quality in herself that she would outgrow with time.

“Who knew my neighbor was such a prude,” Clarke stated.

“Shut up,” Lexa told her, and was so glad Clarke had assumed that was the problem. Being gay could really ruin certain situations for her. (Of course, Lexa wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Anyway, it was all she knew.)

However, when Clarke noticed Lexa’s own selections, she didn’t apparently have anything interesting to say after that.

Later on, they’d ended up going to a pub as Lexa had offered and ordered only a few drinks for themselves. Even with all the drunken St. Patrick’s Day celebrations going on throughout the night, they were kind of over the excessive amount of public intoxication they encountered that day. Lexa had paid for the drinks, as promised, and they promptly resumed their designated spots on Lexa’s couch.

“Why does pub food just hit the spot on this holiday?” Clarke asked and stretched out. She leaned back on the nearest armrest as Lexa did the same on her side, each of them extending their legs on the shared ottoman between them.

“I don’t know, magic?” Lexa suggested and frowned at the weird smile that crossed Clarke’s face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Clarke insisted. “I like your wording. It’s usually me doing it.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

They turned on Netflix and were content to watch silently, ignoring the fact that they were both falling asleep. The beer they’d consumed sat warm in their stomachs and lulled them off into sweet dreams, and Lexa didn’t wake again until it was nearly sunrise. Something, or rather someone, had started moving around.

With one eye peeking open, Lexa could see that, underneath a blanket that one of them (she didn’t know who) had dragged overtop of them in the night, the two girls’ legs had tangled together sometime in the night. Still stretched out on the ottoman, her lower half was warm but asleep and tingly. Clarke was extracting her own limbs.

Far more awake than she, her neighbor nudged her until both eyes squinted open. “Raven and her date got plastered, apparently. She wants me to walk them home.”

“Can’t _cab_?” Lexa tried, but her voice was thick from sleep and she didn’t really understand just how poor her English was at this particular moment.

“I told her to call a cab, but she’d kinda incoherent. She has the same verbal capacity as you right now, judging by her texts, so I’m just gonna take care of that. Probably make her sleep at my place,” Clarke explained. Her voice was cloudy with drowsiness, too.

Not all of what she’d said really got through to Lexa, only enough for her to realize that Clarke had to leave. As she did just that, standing up to go, Lexa tried to reach for her. She only succeeded in hitting the other girl’s hand with her own. Lexa was surprised, however, to find warmth enveloping her hand and realized Clarke must’ve started holding it.

“Can’t stay?” she heard herself mumble. Her eyes were shut again.

“Sorry Lexa,” Clarke hummed. “Go back to sleep, we’ll text tomorrow.”

Her hand was squeezed and dropped. Lexa swore she felt a hand trace through her hair, fingers dragging delicately across Lexa scalp as her neighbor retreated. Clarke was probably just as tired and uncoordinated as Lexa would’ve been had she actually tried to move, as she heard a few thumps before the door closed shut.

It sure was lovely spending the evening with Clarke, Lexa thought. She drifted back to sleep, thoughts of each other trying on certain underclothing that they’d bought that day running rampant in her dreams.

* * *

“So now, lingerie-shopping together is totally platonic?” Raven asked skeptically. She wiped a stray bit of whipped cream from her hand on her apron.

“Raven, I’ve done that with _you_ before,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Chill out.”

“Yeah, okay,” Raven conceded. “But hey, now you know what her pants will look like when you get into them.”

Clarke turned to get the next customer’s order, denying Raven’s claims that she’d dreamt about anything similar happening all last night (which she definitely, _definitely_ had not). “Can we focus on work, please?”

“I’ll focus on work when you give me more details,” her friend stated. She was trying to whip up a concoction that their latest customer had just ordered, which involved so many conditions that she was hardly able to believe it existed within the confines of the menu. Raven had a sharp mind though, and quickly called out in one breath, “Café-caramel-mocha-double-shot-espresso-soy with whipped cream!”

The customer took the drink without thanks and Raven stuck her tongue out behind his retreating figure. “Mouth-breather.”

“Can you cool it?” Clarke hissed. “We want them to keep coming back and funding our paychecks.”

Raven bit back a retort and refocused her efforts. “Are you really not gonna go for Lexa? Because you haven’t got laid since Finn, and that’s a long time.”

“It’s not like my life force is inherently dependent on how often I have sex,” she argued. Blonde hair was pulled back into a bun. “Then again, that could explain certain frustrations.”

“Certain..?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke said honestly. “It’s not like I wouldn’t normally go for it or anything, but… It’s nice to have a good, solid friendship. Not dependent on sex,” she added. “I can’t explain how it feels to have another someone to hang out with all the time. I don’t want to ruin that; I want to keep a good friend.”

“Friendship is what I’m for,” Raven said, a bit grumpily. Clarke supposed she would be grumpy if she had to work with a hangover, though. “You don’t need more friends.”

“Don’t I though?” Clarke deadpanned, just to see Raven’s reaction. No customers were currently in the shop, so Raven squirted whipped cream at her. Clarke dodged and yelled, “Not fair!”

“You love me, admit it!” Raven cried with a manic look in her eyes, threatening to douse her with the whole can if need be.

“Fine!” Clarke admitted, laughing. The door chimed, however, and they donned professionalism once again. “I’m allowed to make another friend, though. You and your new girl are always busy.”

“Sorry, Griff. Some of us have a life,” Raven said when she bent over to get supplies from under the counter. She was swiftly smacked in the ass when the customers weren’t looking, and banged her head trying to get away from Clarke. “I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did,” Clarke agreed. She waited on the next few customers and helped Raven prepare their beverages. Her mind wandered and she began thinking of last night and how she’d left Lexa’s apartment around five in the morning. She’d tried to let the girl know she was leaving, but Lexa hadn’t spoken any real sentences at the time. Clarke guessed she was worn out by all of their late nights recently, and left to allow Lexa to continue sleeping on the couch.

Though it wasn’t even ten yet, Clarke hadn’t gotten a text from Lexa yet that morning and supposed she was sleeping in. She found herself checking her phone every hour that morning after she’d woken up, but received no text notifications so far. Now that Raven had brought the subject of her neighbor up, she’d started thinking about it again.

_C: How’s it going, sleeping beauty?_

She sent the text and awaited Lexa’s reply.

* * *

**_L:_ ** _Rough, thanks for asking._

 ** _C:_**   _Sorry, Lex :(_

Lexa was currently walking, or rather dragging her feet, behind Anya downtown. Hangover be damned, Anya had knocked on her door about an hour ago until Lexa’d gotten off the couch, neck stiff from sleeping in an odd position. She cracked it a few times and heard a loud pop that was probably unhealthy, and then answered the door to her sister pushing through to use her bathroom.

She vaguely recalled Clarke’s presence in her apartment last night in her freshly-woken haze, but saw the empty mess of blankets where they’d slept and remembered what happened. Lexa was too distracted by Anya pretending not to loudly lose her breakfast to think much more of it, and asked her sister if she was alright.

“St. Patrick’s day hangovers are a bitch, little sis,” Anya groaned, but straightened her spine and got a glass of water and Advil from Lexa’s kitchen. “I need coffee.”

“I could make you some,” Lexa offered. This image of Anya’s haggard state was precisely the reason she herself partied so little. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle it, but she preferred to wake up without her head in the toilet most mornings. It also seemed to help her grades when she spent the necessary weekends studying. After schoolwork was done with, she could allow herself to relax and do whatever she wanted. Law school, it seemed, was also a bitch.

“No, I can’t stand yours. I’m sick of it after drinking it for two weeks straight. I found this little coffee shop on Hudson the other day - It’s that one I was telling you about,” Anya reminded her. “They have an amazing brew.”

“So you want to walk all the way out there? In your condition?”

Anya scoffed, but nodded. “It’s worth it, trust me.”

And that was how they’d ended up walking the streets in search of the shop Anya was talking about. It was apparently a locally-owned shop .

“The name’s escaping me right now,” Anya said with a wave of her hand, and she paused on the sidewalk. Lexa nearly thought she was going to throw up again, but then they were moving again and a normal color returned to her sister’s face.

Lexa didn’t have a hangover from her and Clarke’s dinner last night, but she found she was starving. Her stomach was killing her, and if they didn’t find food soon, she was sure to be on Anya’s level.

“Here we are,” Anya announced, gesturing to the shop she’d stopped outside of, causing Lexa to bump into her. They were both a little off balance today. “Sorry.”

“Wait, this…?” Lexa started to ask. She double-checked the name of the café, making sure she was reading it right. Sure enough, when she looked through the window, the baristas looked familiar.

It was the same shop Clarke worked at. A wave of anticipation rolled through her stomach, unfortunately making her nausea just a little worse. “Let’s go order.”

“Wait,” Anya said as they stepped inside. “I just... Let me sit for a minute. Please.” She collapsed into a nearby booth and put her head in her hands, held up by elbows on the table.

“I don’t think they’re going to like it very much if you puke all over the place,” Lexa remarked absently, searching for a certain blonde she’d seen disappear behind the counter.

“So, I was going to tell you earlier,” Anya started. “I totally got one of the barista’s numbers the other day.”

“What?” Lexa whipped her head around and asked, paying full attention now. “Who?”

“You’ll see her when she comes back out. She’s the hot one.”

For some inexplicable reason, Lexa’s heart started beating faster. A deep concern came over her, mind jumping to conclusions, one after the other. _Was it Clarke? It had to be Clarke. Universal coincidences didn’t just happen like that without some sort of weird consequence. Wait, so it_ was _Clarke? And Clarke dated girls? But Anya was seeing Clarke. Clarke was seeing Anya?_

“I can see some sort of virtual train wreck going on in there,” Anya squinted at her like she could see Lexa’s thoughts.

Lexa, on one hand, was trying to keep the outrage, no, the _disbelief_ off of her face. She nearly winced at her tone when she asked, “ _Who_?”

“Raven,” Anya said slowly and shrugged. She pointed at the girl in question, who’d just seen them come in and was presently waving at Anya. Raven caught a glimpse of Lexa sitting with her and a look of confusion crossed her face. She leaned over to touch the arm of the barista next to her and whispered something.

Relief was something akin to what Lexa was currently experiencing.

Clarke turned around, eyes searching until they found Lexa’s. A curious look in her eyes, a smile slowly crept across her face until they were beaming at each other. A shy wave was cast at Lexa, and Lexa glanced at Anya to see if she was noticing. Her sister’s head was once again stuck in her hands.

The blonde stepped from behind the counter and she made her way over to the two in their little booth by the door. “You know you have to order at the counter, right? We don’t come to you?” she teased.

Anya didn’t look up but groaned in response. Lexa spoke for her. “She’d had kind of a rough morning. We’re taking it slow.”

“Oh. Hi, Anya,” Clarke said, surprised. She looked to Lexa in question, but Lexa was just as confused.

Anya looked up from her miserable position, and mumbled “Do I know you? Wait, you look familiar. Did you walk me home last night?”

“Yeah, you and Raven,” Clarke laughed.

“Wait, so when you left this morning,” Lexa started and ignored the look Anya was now giving her for the detail she let slip, “You went to go help my _sister_?”

“Sister?” Clarke repeated.

“Anya,” Lexa pointed.

“Clarke,” Anya burst, remembering and discovering something all at once.

“Raven,” Raven announced herself. “Why are we naming ourselves?”

They all deflated, understanding turning into laughter as they explained how they all knew each other.

“That’s the freakiest coincidence I’ve ever heard of,” Raven supplied. She put a hand on Anya’s shoulder. “You want your regular?”

“Yes, please,” Anya sighed. When the girl retreated to get her order, she mumbled again. “How the hell is she so awake? And, like, alive?”

“She’s kind of famous for this,” Clarke told her. “I’ve partied many a time with Raven Reyes, and she’s nearly impervious to all hangovers. Either that, or way better at hiding it that the rest of us.”

Lexa was sitting back with all this new information, kind of in a daze from her lack of food. She was starting to get fuzzy dots in the corner of her vision and her eyes glazed over. She didn’t think anyone had noticed, but Clarke had sat down next to her at some point and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, holding her upright.

“You okay? You have to be hungry. You would not _believe_ the breakfast I pigged out on this morning,” she said, but frowned when all Lexa could do was nod.

“I’ll get something for you. I’m on break right now, so it’s no problem,” she added because she assumed Lexa would put up a fight. Lexa really didn’t have the energy to do so, which seemed to worry Clarke more. “Alright, operation Raise Lexa’s Blood Sugar, commencing.”

Lexa watched her leave and found herself smiling despite her gnawing hunger. She turned back to Anya, who was also grinning. But this grin was a little more mischievous. “What?”

“ _When you left this morning_?” Anya repeated.

Lexa rolled her eyes and tried to explain herself before the two baristas returned to have breakfast with them. It really was an odd sort of luck that brought them all together that morning, and she was happy that Clarke sat down next to her again upon her return, close enough to her side that Lexa could derive comfort from it.

And, feeling her sister’s eyes bore into her, Lexa tried not to think about how she and Anya would be “ _discussing it later_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Can't thank you enough for all of the brilliant reviews you've been leaving! I appreciate it so much. Please keep them coming, ily so much. XOXO


	6. Chapter 6 - The Heavens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Extreme fluff and Crazyhead spoilers.

Clarke and Lexa rolled into a routine over the next few weeks, texting each other frequently and finding time to see each other at least once a day. Lexa felt she was becoming quite addicted to Clarke’s company, if she didn’t say so herself. It was well into April and they still hadn’t gotten sick of each other yet, but Lexa was no longer perturbed by that fact. Far from strange, her time with Clarke became the new normal. Days spent without each other became the oddity.

As time had progressed, Lexa worried about Clarke taking any of her actions the wrong way and perceiving them as any Sapphic advance far less than she had their first week together. Contact grew to be a natural thing for them - a hand to the other’s arm here, elbows interlocked there. They were comfortable with each other and nothing about it felt uneasy anymore. It looked as if they were both affectionate people, and that trait was only amplified if they drank too much (which, thankfully, never really happened when they were around each other).

Honestly speaking, they tended to drink quite a bit of wine together, and regularly at that. Their alcohol consumption only occurred weekly at the least because they’d started having Friday pizza and wine nights, relentlessly starting and finishing Netflix shows. They typically limited themselves to a bottle or less per week. Sometimes they were too involved in their own conversations (which never bored Lexa) to be quiet enough to pay attention to the screen and watch the shows they’d picked. And, with how little they drank, the wine no longer alarmed either of them into thinking they’d be too handsy. Each young woman quickly found out the other didn’t mind if their legs were crossed on top of the other's or not, or if hands were resting closely together. It was a warm and comforting kind of friendship.

As she climbed the stairs in her apartment building, Lexa recalled the day long ago when Anya had teased her mercilessly as they’d left the coffee shop they had met Clarke and Raven at. Lexa had let it slip that Clarke and her had spent the night together, but hadn’t been able to specify that she and Clark just fallen asleep on the couch, before the sisters were interrupted and distracted by their returning company at the table.

Anya had started crooning at her as soon as they stepped outside. “Lexa has a girlfriend! _Finally_!”

With an eye roll so hard it almost hurt, Lexa had looked at her sister incredulously. “Can you stop?”

“Many have waited for this day; the day that my little sis has finally-”

“Keep your damn voice down.”

“How can you be upset? You’re getting laid now,” Anya mocked. In a voice that was so serious the sarcasm could barely be heard, she had continued, “Can I just say that I am so proud? And also that I am shocked and upset you didn’t say anything earlier. A week ago you were calling me, crying about this girl, and now look at you.”

Lexa had impatiently waited for her to finish, shaking her head at her sister’s antics. “First of all, I did not _cry_. Second of all, you’re taking this completely out of proportion. We went out for dinner and just fell asleep on my couch. There’s nothing weird about that.”

“You took her to dinner!” Anya had started again, thrilled. “Did you pay?”

“That’s beside the point,” Lexa had protested, exasperated with how miserably she was failing to get her point across. “I don’t know how to better explain this, but nothing of that sort has transpired between us. We’re just friends.”

Anya had hooked her elbow through her sister’s arm, oblivious of the fact that Lexa wanted nothing to do with her. “So _just friends_ smile adorably at each other over the breakfast table?”

“ _Adorably_?” Lexa repeated, not able to tell whether she was more disgusted with Anya for suggesting it, or herself for believing Anya. She forcibly removed her arm from Anya’s, and for the rest of the walk, she’d argued with Anya about the true nature of her relationship with Clarke (despite several attempts on her part to change the subject). It turned out that Anya was mostly fucking with her, but Lexa hadn’t appreciated it in the least.

“Yeah, I’m not serious, Lex. Calm down, already,” Anya had grinned and rubbed her elbow into Lexa’s side until she stopped scowling. She was starting to lose energy from teasing her little sister, though, and told her she was going back to her own apartment to nap the rest of her hangover away. “You know, sometimes when you lie, you get very defensive.”

She refused to take Anya’s bait but wished her to feel better when they’d arrived on her street at last.  Lexa had gone back to sleep when she arrived in her own apartment that day and had tried not to think about what her sister had said.

That had been weeks ago, and today, Lexa was heading up to Clarke’s apartment to watch a new show they’d discovered, called _Crazyhead_. They’d started watching shows with supernatural themes out of habit. Clarke no longer gave her weird looks when she suggested odd shows, either, so Lexa hoped the sci-fi genre was growing on her.

It was a stormy Friday afternoon, blustery and terribly wet, and both young women had just finished their classes. They’d chatted about how eager the both of them were to start another binge-watching session. Lexa opened the unlocked door to Clarke’s apartment and called out for her friend.

“I’m in my bedroom,” Clarke answered. Lexa furrowed her brows when she wandered in at whatever the other girl was trying to do. The blonde had scooped up all the blankets on her bed and was currently holding them all, a pillow or two precariously stuck on the top of her heap.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you make a bed,” Lexa stated.

Clarke made a face at her. “Shhh. I have a cool idea.”

“Is it a new-age method of making your bed? Because-”

“Okay, seriously. Shut up and help me.”

Lexa wandered over to her and took the pillows threatening to fall, grabbing another few that’d already landed back on the bed at Clarke’s request. She curiously followed her neighbor out to the living room and stood back after they plopped everything down on the couch.

“How do you feel about blanket forts?” Clarke asked, chest heaving with the effort of trying not to trip on all of her blankets. “Because we’re building one.”

“Wait, really?” Lexa asked, all former concerns about Clark’s knowledge of bed-making vanishing. She looked at the materials they’d just dumped from their arms.

“Yeah, forts are for people of all ages.” Clarke appeared to be pleased that Lexa agreed to her idea so quickly. She reached around to the side of the coffee table and picked up a new bottle of wine she’d bought. “I also decided there’s a way we can make it a whole lot more adult.”

Lexa took the wine bottle and pretended to inspect it seriously, and then looked up at Clarke.

“Griffin, this is just about the best idea you’ve had in all the days I’ve known you.”

Clarke agreed, and a hand flew up to cover her grin when she asked, “Did you just call me Griffin?”

“I heard Raven say it one time, thought I’d try it out. Perhaps it’s not for me.” Lexa pondered aloud, scrunching her nose up.

“You can call me whatever you’d like,” Clarke laughed and went into the kitchen to grab the cork-popper. Lexa noticed it was laying nearby a second wine bottle on the counter. She walked up to Clarke and sheepishly held up a third bottle of her own from her bag. Clarke only smirked. “Well, looks like we’ve more than prepared.”

“We probably shouldn’t drink this all tonight,” Lexa started, and saw Clarke considering her suggestion, about to agree. “But, you know, I had a killer exam today, so it might be warranted.”

“Drinking our problems away, are we?” Clarke asked, taking the third bottle along with the others and putting them closer to the living room.

Lexa shrugged but told her how she’d been caught in the rain and was nearly late for her test that morning. She’d been without an umbrella and had to walk inside her classroom soaking wet, sitting uncomfortably with moisture _everywhere_ , and it’d completely thrown her off her game. A hot shower was her only point of hope to focus on that day – that, and their planned movie night.

Clarke gave her a sympathetic look. She’d experienced just how torrential the downpour had been, having been caught in the storm on her way back from school. “It’s cool with me if we’re drinking our problems away, just to verify.”

Lexa nodded and turned back to the beginnings of the blanket fort. “I’m glad you suggested this. It’s kind of what I needed after today.” She faced her friend again with a sigh. “Thanks, Clarke.”

“No problem,” she replied easily. “Let’s get this thing built.”

They quickly set to work. The girls paused halfway through only to order a pizza, and then continued hanging up edges of blankets around Clarke’s living room. They used clothespins to hold the sheets together. Excess blankets and pillows were scattered around the floor inside. They propped themselves up against the base of the couch and turned on the television, which had been brought inside the spacious fort.

As soon as everything was finished, Lexa left the confines of the blanket walls to get wine glasses while Clarke escaped to answer the door and retrieve the pizza from downstairs. It was still light out, but Clarke also decided to grab some Christmas lights from her room and hang them up in the fort, making it a magical and cozy dream world inside. Lexa and Clarke grinned at their efforts and then back at each other.

It was the first time that their shared pizza was not homemade, but neither girl had the energy to stand and cook that night. They’d easily agreed takeout was fine. However, when they bit into their pizza, a look transpired between the two of them, and they both knew what the other was thinking.

”Ours is way better.”

“Obviously we need to open up our own pizza shop.”

Neither of them could admit they weren’t starving, though, and the pizza was practically inhaled anyway.

They were halfway through the show and had finished a full bottle of wine before they’d realized there were only six episodes of _Crazyhead_ available online. Well, six episodes that existed total. Lexa raised her latest glass up to the screen and pointed at the main female characters on screen. “Why do all British shows have such short seasons?”

“More importantly, why is British television so much better than American?” Clarke asked, and clinked her glass to Lexa’s.

It was well into the night when they’d reached the sixth and final episode. They were now two wine bottles deep and starting the third, both starting to feel much more than tipsy. They’d each stretched out like lazy starfish, Clarke’s right leg over Lexa’s left, and were staring at the string lights twinkling on the roof of the fort.

Lexa knocked her foot on Clarke’s to get her attention. “Have I ever told you how much I love stars?”

"No." Clarke looked over at her. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Lexa breathed. She didn’t know why she was telling Clarke exactly… _Oh, that’s right_. She gestured up to the lights that resembled stars twinkling somewhere outside. “I haven’t seen them since I last went camping with my family, but I kind of remember them looking like this.”

“That must’ve been brilliant,” Clarke told her.

“It was,” Lexa nodded. “I keep forgetting to tell you something. Anya’s planning a camping trip for the two of us before graduation, to go out again - camping. It’s, like, an early celebration for finishing school. I’m really excited for it.”

“When’s that?” Clarke asked. “Seriously, that’s so nice of her. I bet it’ll be awesome.”

“ _I_ think so,” Lexa murmured. “It’s the first weekend in May, before graduation. I don’t have class that Friday, so we’re leaving Thursday and coming back Saturday. We’ll be driving all the way up to the Catskills.”

“I’m jealous.” Clarke offered a lop-sided grin, happy for her. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone camping, but I took a trip to Virginia Beach once with my mom and dad. You could see the whole Milky Way at night if you were on this one island nearby. Chincoteague, I think it was called. Or Assateague.”

“Heh, _ass_.”

“You’re so drunk,” Clarke gazed thoughtfully at her friend, but was chuckling along with her.

“I’m not the only one,” Lexa told her and half-heartedly attempted to smack Clarke. Her hand fell like deadweight, limp and loopy from the alcohol coursing through her veins. Then, after a few moments, it grew light and warm, and Lexa realized Clarke had picked it up.

“My point is, the roof of our fort is pretty and looks like the sky,” Lexa added, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m looking forward to looking at the stars again.”

Her neighbor sat up, inadvertently leaning over Lexa’s slouched form a little. She was examining Lexa’s hand – for what, the brunette didn’t know. At first, she started tracing little patterns on the hand she’d seized, drawing something Lexa couldn’t see. Clarke’s fingertips grazed along tan ones, and she looked harder at the hand she was inspecting.

“Lexa!” she exclaimed suddenly.

“Clarke!” Lexa mimicked.

“Your fingers are so tall,” she said, gasping. “Wait, long? That’s the word.”

Lexa sat up with her, feeling a similar loss of control over her balance. She held her hand up to Clarke’s and both of them stared in wonder at the difference in lengths between the two of them. Lexa’s were long and slender, Clarke’s were shorter and callused from years of holding pencils and paintbrushes.

“Weird,” Lexa breathed, genuinely and drunkenly interested. Their shoulders were touching, holding each other up, but neither of them really noticed. She was first to put her hand down, but it landed atop her thigh (which was adjacent to Clarke’s thigh, where Clarke’s hand had similarly landed). Lexa guessed she probably wasn’t aware of the way her pinky was stretching to meet Lexa’s, occasionally bumping into it as a commotion seemed to commence on the forgotten screen flashing in front of them.

They became engrossed in the show before them again soon enough. Well, Clarke did. Lexa was busy trying to concentrate on the show instead of the tingling feeling crawling up her arm from her friend’s fidgeting. Lexa didn’t know if it was her own intoxicated state or what – _well, who was she kidding, of course it_ was – that made her want to stop Clarke’s tapping and scoop up her hand entirely.

But Clarke was distracted, staring intently at the screen. The two main characters were at a costume party. There was maybe ten minutes left to the show, and the blonde character was trying to find her fellow demon-hunter friend (Lexa couldn’t remember their names) that had been kidnapped by the throwers of the party. Several minutes later, they’d found each other, but the kidnapped character was having a mental breakdown and was somehow (Lexa hadn’t exactly been paying attention) bringing about an apocalypse with her supernatural powers ( _What? When had she gotten them?)._

“What’s going on?” Lexa whispered, now thoroughly confused, but Clarke didn’t hear her.

The blonde character was back on screen, coaxing her friend and trying to calm her down before the world ended, or something along those lines. One minute they were talking and the next, the two onscreen characters were kissing.

“ _What_?” Lexa said aloud.

But her neighbor ignored her still. Instead, she’d reached out and decided to grab Lexa’s hand herself, swept up in her emotions. Clarke’s jaw had dropped, and Lexa guessed she was hardly aware of their conjoined limbs. “Aww, oh my god. Look, Lexa!”

“I thought they were just friends,” Lexa asked dumbly, confused.

“No, didn’t you see the subtle gay subtext throughout the whole thing?”

“I mean, I _guess_. I didn’t think they’d actually _act_ on it,” Lexa replied.

“Me neither.” Clarke squeezed her hand again and brought it up to her own heart, oblivious to the fact that she was dragging Lexa’s along with her. She used her other hand to finish her glass of wine. “It was cute though, right?”

“Of course,” Lexa answered, still distracted by the lack of ownership of her own fingers. Their elbows were folded together and Clarke had decided to set their hands in her own lap. Lexa certainly wasn’t complaining, though, and leaned her head back down against the pillows.

Well, what she thought were pillows. It might have been Clarke’s shoulder. She couldn’t really tell.

Lexa absently thought she might be content to stay like this in their fort for the rest of her life. The show was still rolling, but she was closing her eyes, reveling in how marvelously the day had ended.

“Your cheeks are pink, Lex,” she heard Clarke say softly. Lexa opened her eyes to stare lazily up at the girl she was lying next to. She was gazing curiously down, looking at Lexa with wonder. “You think we’ve drank too much? I usually start blushing too.”

She could surely blame it on that. Lexa wouldn’t mind at all. She was about to say something (probably quite stupid) back to Clarke, feeling a little weak under her gaze, when a pitch-black darkness suddenly enveloped them.

They both jumped, scrambling to their knees as gracefully as they could. Clark’s gentle caress had turned to a death grip on Lexa’s wrist.

“What’s happening?”

“Is the power out?”

They let go of each other then and scrambled in the darkness for their phones. The TV, lights, and everything else had gone black, and they could barely see anything before they turned on their flashlights.

Clarke led them out of the fort and to the window that allowed them a view of the city. Well, usually it did. For all they knew right now, they could’ve been looking into an empty void. “What in the _world_?”

“Clarke?” Lexa asked, stumbling along behind her until she leaned on the glass pane. “Why can’t we see anything?”

Clarke just shrugged in response, and whispered, “Okay, I know it’s just because we’ve been watching that show, but what if there’s a demon apocalypse going on?”

Lexa rolled her eyes in the darkness, sobering up just a little. “Don’t be silly, Clarke. I’ll call the landlord.”

She was on the phone for a moment, trying with the utmost sobriety to speak clearly and discuss the problem with the landlord, Indra, and discovered that the earlier storm had led to a city-wide blackout. Thankfully, Indra mentioned that back-up generators were currently being looked at to combat the power outage, at least temporarily. She was told that everything would be back to normal in an hour or two.

“Apparently the storm stopped,” Lexa told Clarke upon hanging up, and she looked out the window again. “Not that I can really tell.”

She couldn’t decipher whether Clarke heard her or not, however, because the other girl was staring up at something out the window that Lexa couldn’t see. The light from her phone exposed the fog on the glass when Clarke spoke. “ _Lexa?_ ”

“ _Clarke?_ ”

“I have another brilliant idea. Grab the best blanket from inside the fort,” Clarke breathed again and leaned back to nudge her arm excitedly. The blonde herself went into the closet to dig something out, but, upon her return from underneath the fort, Lexa couldn’t see what it was until she focused her flashlight on it. It looked like a lounge chair.

“You have your sweatshirt on?” Clarke asked.

Lexa nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see her and verbally confirmed instead.

“Alright,” Clarke said, and Lexa could hear her smiling. “Follow me.”

“Whatever you say,” Lexa said and picked up something else along the way. They wobbled over to a door in Clarke’s apartment that Lexa had never known the purpose of, and only now did she realize what was happening. “You have roof access?”

“Duh,” Clarke scoffed. They climbed upwards until they met another door that opened up to a pitch black space. Her neighbor searched behind her until she found Lexa and grabbed her arm, both of them stumbling out to the middle of the roof. She stopped them and used both hands to set up the chair.

Thankfully, it was wide enough that it could seat both of them, but it took a bit to get in the chair. Lexa fumbled onto it first, and Clarke felt around for the armrest, settling herself on her side, facing Lexa. It was quite cozy.

Clarke must’ve felt Lexa looking at her, because she turned to face her. Or at least, Lexa's neck, because she could feel warm exhalations there. “Let’s not be afraid to cuddle, okay, Woods? It’s cold out.”

“Did you just call me _Woods_?” Lexa asked, a little breathy. She may have been very drunk and confused about most things happening around her, but she was still aware enough to be startled by the feeling of her own heart beating out of her chest at the sound of Clarke’s gravelly voice annunciating her last name.

Lexa was also conscious of the goosebumps on her neck where she could feel Clarke’s breath, but she was trying her hardest to not to concentrate on it.

She heard the sound of Clarke’s head nodding against the fabric on the back of the chair in response to her question. Lexa laughed despite whatever gay heart condition she was currently experiencing and echoed Clarke’s earlier words. “Call me whatever you like.”

Clark hummed at that, and promised to take her up on the offer.

“Where’s that blanket?” Clarke asked, shivering a little. The rainstorm had taken away the earlier heat wave the city had been experiencing and now, outside, she insisted her fingers were growing cold. She helped Lexa settle the blanket over both of them and paused when she heard something clank to the floor. “What was that?”

Lexa smiled, though Clarke couldn’t see it, and grabbed ahold of what had rolled off of the blanket, just within reach. Both of their eyes were finally adjusting to the dark, and Lexa was pleased that she could now see grey outlines of everything. She promptly plopped the third wine bottle she’d grabbed at the last minute on the blanket space atop both of their stomachs.

“Lexa, you beautiful human being,” Clarke whispered with gusto. “This is perfect.”

“Can’t let it go to waste,” Lexa shrugged, thinking it was as good an excuse as any, and took a swig of the alcohol. When she wiped her mouth, she felt Clarke staring up at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Clarke said and squirmed where she sat. Lexa shifted more comfortably against her and handed over the bottle to share. Clarke took a long drink herself before capping it with the cork again.

Lexa soon found that her head was spinning even though she was laying down. She felt confused suddenly and had no idea why she and Clarke were sitting on a chair on their roof. To her credit, she was having trouble remembering most things at the moment. “Clarke what are we doing up here? It’s freezing.”

In response, Clarke cuddled closer and fisted cold fingers into the fabric of Lexa’s sweatshirt, helping the two of them warm up considerably. Lexa had started to pass the point where she second-guessed their affectionately-drunken gestures and gave into her desire to hold Clarke just a bit closer. She turned on her side just a little more and warmed her own fingers by twisting them in the blanket around Clarke’s stomach, wrapping both of them more warmly together. Clarke hummed against her chest where her head had landed and said softly, “Look up.”

Lexa did as she was told and gasped audibly. She focused her eyes as best as she could and gazed at the open sky before her. A few thousand stars glittered before her, a sight she’d so rarely been able to experience in the city. “No way!”

“Thought you’d like it,” the blonde in her side mumbled, slurring her words just a little and taking another sip of wine. “Without all the lights, you can actually see some constellations.”

Lexa nodded excitedly and recalled the names of the ones she could remember in her intoxicated state, accidentally repeating a few of the same ones, and pointing them all out to Clarke. It wasn’t like they could see the whole sky, as there was still some pollution blocking a full view of the heavens, but it was much more than was normally visible in the city. They’d even seen a shooting star at one point, of which Lexa babbled on about endlessly and insisted they both make a wish.

“What’d you wish for?” Clarke asked when she’d obliged and made hers.

“It won’t come true if you say it out loud, stupid,” Lexa scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. By Lexa’s inebriated logic, even asking the question was bad luck.

“Wow, you’re a _mean_ drunk,” Clarke complained.

“Shut up,” Lexa said affectionately. They both knew she didn’t mean it, and so she rested her head on Clarke’s, which had settled into her own shoulder. She remained there until her eyes felt heavy, the world tilting sideways again from all the wine she’d consumed.

She didn’t know how much time passed until Clarke was shaking her, hand holding up her face so that her eyes would open.

* * *

 

“Lexa,” Clarke nudged her. They’d both passed out on the roof, but Clarke’s eyes had popped open when she realized the city below them was lit up again. Lexa was hardly responding, and it was starting to worry her. “Lexa, please wake up. It’s freezing out here.”

It’d felt better when the two of them had been continuously drinking wine, as they’d been able to stay warm from the alcohol heating their throats. The blanket had done enough to keep the chill off, but the wind was starting to pick up and the return of the light pollution had blocked out their view of the stars above. It was high time they go to bed.

Lexa groaned grumpily in response to Clarke smacking her cheek. “Wha-?”

“It’s cold. Let’s go back,” Clarke pleaded. It was easier convincing Lexa than she thought once she was awake. Well, perhaps, half-awake. Her eyes didn’t open, and once they’d extracted themselves from the chair, she looked like she was close to teetering back to a horizontal position at any moment. Clarke abandoned everything but the blanket as she helped her neighbor back down the roof steps.

Lexa spoke no real words the entire time she was led back to Clarke’s living room, so Clarke (who was much better at holding her liquor, it seemed) shoved a glass of water into her neighbor’s hand. Lexa’s eyes still never really opened while she sat on the kitchen chair, so Clarke forced her to drink a second glass of water.

“You’re hopeless, Lex,” Clarke mumbled, and decided she should drink a glass herself, feeling dizzy. When they were finished and Clarke was one hundred percent positive that Lexa was sleep-walking the whole time, she led them back to the blanket fort.

Tugging Lexa’s hand to guide her along faster, Clarke found she was madly craving sleep again, too. This time, Lexa blinkingly held her hand and followed until they reached their destination. Clarke decided this particular movie night was now decidedly a sleepover night, and promptly pulled the big blanket they’d taken outside over the both of them once again, unplugging the string lights that had been left on earlier.

“Night, Griff,” she heard Lexa mumble next to her.

“Sweet dreams, Woods,” Clarke whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I hope this wasn't too much fluff. I was really feeling it though, okay? Also FYI I'm THRIVING off these magnificently kind reviews you're leaving me. Especially the long ones (Wink wink, you know who you are). If I haven't mentioned it before, I LOVE YOU GUYS. *Cough* That is all.


	7. Chapter 7 - A Witch's Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. It's, like, the longest chapter I've ever cranked out, and jam-packed with subtle fluff. Enjoy, lovelies.

Clarke awakened with her senses overloaded by the intoxicating scent of lavender and the soft feeling of her nose stuck in silky waves of dark hair.

Blinking her eyes, she wrinkled said appendage and noticed that she was, in fact, nestled in a bundle of the stuff. Actually, her whole body had curled into the back of a certain brunette. Her hands were snug between their bodies and tucked in by her own chest to keep warm in the fort they’d constructed the night before. She closed her eyes another moment, reveling in the warmth given off by the living body pillow next to her, content to dream for another long while.

Sometime later, when Clarke could no longer fight the need to wake up, she inhaled lavender one last time and rolled onto her back. This appeared to wake her tired friend, and soon her body rolled to face Clarke.

Lexa’s eyes were still closed, but her chest moved up and down at a rate that told Clarke she wasn’t sleeping. Her lips separated, a single noise left them. “Ugh.”

“Morning,” Clarke tried, but her voice was rough and dry. She’d been much too warm in her sleep and desperately needed a drink of water. Lexa groaned in response, and Clarke strangely felt laughter bubbling in her chest. She’d never had the pleasure of seeing her friend wake up, and Lexa’s aversion to mornings was making Clarke’s aversion to mornings much better. “You awake?”

“No,” Lexa grunted.

“Looks like it.”

“Shhh,” Lexa tried to quiet her. Tired fingertips reached out and tried to close over Clarke’s mouth, but they immediately failed their mission and, sadly, hit only the pillow next to Clarke’s face.

Clarke smirked at her. “You’re hopeless.”

“ _You_ are.”

“Solid comeback,” Clarke sniggered and reached out for her phone, stuck under the blankets. “Smile.”

“Why?”

“To look nice for the camera,” she told Lexa. Clarke moved a little closer so that their heads were resting next to one another and grinned when she received no sassy retort. Worst case scenario, she’d have a lovely picture of her neighbor half-awake and grumpy next to her.

 _Best_ worst case scenario ever. Either way, she decided, a picture was being posted before Lexa woke up.

She brought the phone back down from her extended hand and was pleasantly surprised to see that Lexa had, in fact, smiled incredibly and had nestled her head back against Clarke’s to pose sleepily for the camera. She still didn’t look completely awake, and hadn’t moved from her position, but Clarke was already setting the picture as her lock screen.

It wasn’t weird to have pictures of herself and one of her greatest new friends to look at every day, she decided. No, not weird at all.

When she was finished admiring her new display, she reached over with the arm nearest Lexa and patted her opposite cheek, trying to wake her up more. Lexa groaned again and just turned away from the offense. Fortunately (or rather, unfortunately), she shifted right into Clarke.

“Stay in bed,” Clarke heard, a low mumble directly into her ear. Lexa’s nose was buried deep into her hair and the heat of her breath swept over the short pillow-space between them and warmed her cheek. Lexa’s lips unintentional graced the shell of her ear, and Clarke physically shivered.

She told herself not to lean into the sound of Lexa’s pleading. _Get ahold of yourself, Griffin_.

Forcibly sitting up, she watched as Lexa curled into the space she left behind. Her heart clenched a little at the sight of her sleeping neighbor, pout back in place and eyes still shut, and Clarke’s fingers itched to lay back down and help her wake up, but she knew she shouldn’t. She _so_ shouldn’t.

“Lex, you have to wake up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m starving and we need to eat,” Clarke insisted. She wasn’t entirely sure how much wine they’d actually ended up drinking last night, but she was thankfully remembering they’d both hydrated before bed.

A dull throbbing was swiftly spreading throughout her brain, and seemed to get worse the longer she sat up. It was almost as if the headache was trying to convince her to lay back down a moment more, so Clarke decided to oblige. _For that reason only_.

Safe and further from Lexa on the pillow she realized they’d come to share, Clarke looked over to see that her neighbor’s eyes had finally opened, tired green ones looking into bright blue ones. Her pout turned into more of a frown. For half a second, she swore Lexa glanced down at Clarke’s mouth, perhaps realizing how close she’d come in her early morning struggle. She made no move to inch away, though, and only looked intensely back at the girl next to her.

“Clarke?” she asked, eyes big.

“Yes?” Clarke asked and held her breath.

Lexa glanced down one more time and told her, “I can’t decide whether I want to throw up or not.”

Well. Moment _effectively_ ruined.

Clarke released a sigh and looked at Lexa with concern. She couldn’t believe where her mind had just gone. Perhaps this was why she never tried to sleepover at Lexa’s after their Netflix binges before. “Really?”

Lexa nodded and closed her eyes again with a grimace.

“I don’t think we even made it halfway through the third bottle last night, though,” Clarke told her. “And I made you drink so much water before bed.”

“You did?”

Clarke smirked with a shake of her head, “I knew you were sleepwalking.”

Lexa grunted pitifully again in response. Clarke reminded of where the bathroom was. “I’ll stop bothering you if you hang out in there for a bit. Just… Anything but puking in the fort, okay? The fort is a no-puke zone.”

A little grin finally escaped Lexa’s lips at that, and she took a blanket with her to said bathroom.

Clarke could definitely handle hangovers. Raven never really needed to be taken care of, as she was like Clarke and could handle her liquor. Clarke blamed this on their entire college-partying career spent together. They were impervious to nearly everything, especially since they were also well-experienced with being able to limit themselves.

On the other hand, her old friend from high school, Octavia Blake, had never once been able to prevent herself from vomiting the morning after a night out. The poor girl had a tinier figure back then, and her intolerance for binge-drinking always hit her like a truck. She’d taken the girl back to her own house on several occasions, secretly thinking that if Octavia ever had experienced true alcohol poisoning, she knew her mom would be close by to help.

At some point, Clark thought that her mom had figured out she was helping drunk friends while she's been preoccupied with late shifts at the hospital. One night, she’d taught Clarke the proper way to handle the aforementioned situation if she were ever worried about it, and she hadn’t ever been more grateful.

Prior to this morning, Clarke had thought that Lexa, on the other hand, could handle her liquor well. Better than Octavia, at least. She’d been a little worried with how pale Lexa looked currently, though, and decided she better bring a glass of water to the bathroom.

When she’d knocked on the door watched it fall open, she saw that Lexa was sitting on the floor and leaning lazily on the side of the toilet seat, her hand propping up her head. She scowled tiredly at the bowl in front of her, and then up at Clarke. The dark circles under her eyes showed up a little more in the sunlight coming in through the bathroom window. Lexa looked terrible tired, but tried to sit up a bit more when Clarke joined her on the floor, moving aside a bit of the blanket that was brought in.

“How’s it going?” Clarke asked softly and handed her the water.

“I still can’t decide,” Lexa murmured and offered her a half smile.

“You know, you’re probably just hungry,” she said. “Food usually fixes a hangover, for me at least.”

Lexa grimaced and looked at the bowl again, her head dropping to rest on her bicep. “I hardly want to think about food right now.”

Clarke instructed her to at least _try_ to drink some water, and Lexa did as told. Before she put her head back down, and while they were facing each other, Clarke reached over with her hands on either side of Lexa’s head and started combing her hair back. She used her fingertips and tried to be as gentle as possible, noticing how Lexa’s eyes fluttered shut again, and pulled her locks back into a loose bun. In the event of Lexa’s stomach revolting, at least her hair would be out of her face.

Eyes still shut, Lexa laid back down on her arm while Clarke retrieved anti-nausea medication. She knew that distractions often helped herself to feel better, so she kept them talking, hoping it would work with Lexa as well. When the pills were taken, she appeared to pick up a little, which relieved Clarke. The meds were helping, and soon Lexa was talking consistently in full sentences.

“You know, Anya did always call me a lightweight,” she joked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that’d fallen out of her bun.

“I never would’ve thought,” Clarke laughed, “Seeing as you’re the one who keeps finding all these extra bottles of wine.”

“I’m a danger to myself,” Lexa shook her head. “I may never forgive me.”

“Aw, c’mon. I know Drunk Lexa didn’t mean it last night. She just wanted you to have a good time.”

“Maybe I’ll pardon me, then. She had the best intensions,” Lexa sighed and leaned back against the tub behind her.

“Next time, we’ll double the water before bed,” Clarke decided. She didn’t like to see Lexa feeling ill; it did funny things to her heart. Funny, sad things. Like she couldn’t even think about satisfying her own hunger for a continental breakfast until she was sure Lexa felt comfortable again. Or, you know, wasn’t going to puke her brains out.

After they talked for a while and Clarke calmed down Lexa (and her stomach), Lexa was sitting upright on her own and conceded to follow Clarke out of the bathroom. They went so far as to leave the apartment and walk to a bakery that was just a block over to eat some real food.

Lexa started sniffling a bit during breakfast, blaming it on the change in whether, but Clarke tried not to think about how many times she kept blowing her nose. She was just glad Lexa was feeling better for the moment, and it comforted her to see the other girl eating all the toast she could, appearing suddenly ravenous.

“I knew you’d feel better,” Clarke said, finishing the eggs on her plate.

“Thanks for trying to help,” Lexa told her, with a smile that brightened Clarke’s whole morning. “Because you did.”

Clark grinned back.

* * *

On the way back to their apartment building, Lexa kept sneezing. Clarke was starting to feel a little less confident in her ability to be helpful, but Lexa would brush her off, telling her that she was fine. She’d barely stopped sniffling when they left the bakery and had a little more color in her, but she looked worn-out again.

Clarke attempted to stop analyzing the girl next to her on the sidewalk for a moment, realizing she was doing what her mom usually did to her whenever Clarke had tried to hide a hangover. Lexa would be just fine; and most likely had spring allergies on top of everything. She probably just needed a nap.

Lexa hadn’t been very talkative after they’d finished their food. In actuality, she hadn’t been talkative very much the whole morning, but the majority of the time they’d been in the bakery, their mouths had been stuffed anyway. Nagging doubts caused Clarke to follow Lexa inside her apartment when they’d arrived at her door.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Clarke asked her, hovering in the doorway, hand on the zipper of her coat and ready to stay if Lexa needed anything.

“Totally,” Lexa nodded, but it was terribly unconvincing. She walked sluggishly over to the kitchen chairs, not quite collapsing in one, but not easing into it either. Trailing behind her, Clarke stood next to her chair.

Before she was aware of doing it, Clarke reached her hand out and held it to Lexa’s forehead. Not surprisingly, it was warm to the touch. She was beginning to think there was a reason Lexa had been so warm when they’d woken up together that morning. “I think you have a fever.”

“What?” Lexa scoffed. She leaned away from Clarke’s hand, not accepting her diagnosis. “That’s ridiculous, I never get sick.”

“Yeah, _okay_.” Clark gave her a look of disbelief and went in search of the first aid kit she knew was in the kitchen until she found a thermometer. She brought it back to Lexa and held it up to her mouth. “Prove it.”

“Clark, really?” Lexa asked, but Clarke only waited for her to give in. She remembered the days when her mother took house calls to visit sick people, and how impatient they were in contrast to her mother. Lexa was just the same, it seemed, reluctant to accept help when she needed it. When the thermometer was taken and returned back to her, it read _99.9 degrees Fahrenheit_.

“Oh. Oops,” Lexa said dumbly, shrugging when her results were announced.

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Clarke mocked her, but eased up. After all, it wasn’t Lexa’s fault she was sick. With one hand leaning on Lexa’s chair, she told her, “Go lie down for a bit. We can cancel art lessons tonight.”

Lexa frowned and looked like she wanted to protest, but she gave up, too tired to really give a fight. “Maybe I’ll feel better by tonight, though.”

“Text me if you do, then,” Clarke offered. She knew it was unlikely, and wasn’t particularly happy about the prospect of canceling their “art lessons,” either.

A few nights a week, they brought out sketchbooks and basically sketched whatever came to mind. That was how Clarke started out, she it was decided she would do the same to teach her friend. If Lexa had questions or wanted to improve her skills on a certain subject, Clarke would gladly help. Some of the time, they ended up scribbling on each other’s papers, swapping them, and drawing whatever doodle they could make from the given lines. It was cathartic, in a way, and yet another great excuse for them to spend time together.

When Lexa promised she would go back to sleep and call Anya to come help take care of her, Clarke finally decided it was alright to leave. It took a bit to get her out of the apartment on Lexa’s part, but Clarke insisted on making sure she wasn’t going to make herself worse.

“I’ll text you if I need anything. I’ll be fine, though,” Lexa said as she shut the door, and Clarke relented and went up the stairs to her own place.

* * *

 

Upon closing her own door behind her, Clarke discovered she wasn’t quite sure what to do in her own apartment the rest of the afternoon. Alone.

Most of her free time was spent with Lexa, so she rarely knew what to do on her own anymore. She looked at the pile they’d left on the floor from last night, and decided she could at least take care of that. The fort was cleaned up quickly, pillows and blankets put back in their place. There was some homework she supposed she could finish, so Clarke then decided to focus on that until the late hours of the evening.

From time to time, she glanced over at the tall, blank canvas she’d prepared for her final project. It was a bit nerve-wracking, trying to think of what she would come up with, and the fact that she still had no idea of what to paint this late in the semester was only making her anxiety about it worse. Clarke had an inkling of what she might like to draw, but that overwhelming feeling of needing to get it out on canvas that came with most of her greatest works just hadn’t overcome her yet. And still, it was niggling in the corner of her mind that the final project was due in only a week or two.

Well, if there was only _one_ project that she procrastinated on the entire semester, she decided she couldn’t be terribly upset with herself. But still, did it have to be the most important project of her college career? _Of course it did_.

Clarke was excited at the prospect of graduation, at least. As fun as college had been, she was a little over all of the schoolwork. Not only would she finally have completed all her years of school, but soon Clarke would have her art displayed in a proper gallery and have a real chance of employment right out of school, a chance she’d never thought she’d have. Or, at least someone might buy her artwork and give her a small salary to help start paying back her loans.

 Clarke was beyond excited for the exhibition. She got distracted, thinking about how she’d have to let all her friends know, if her mom hadn’t already shared the news with everyone on Facebook about it. She didn’t really check that particular aspect of social media too often, so she wasn’t entirely sure. And at least, if there was anyone she would invite personally, it would have to be Lexa.

Clarke then thought how she’d been told to bring a date.

 _Hmm_. Raven was taken, no doubt bringing Anya as her own date, so that wasn’t an option. Bringing her mom as a date would be a little weird, and Clarke wasn’t sure she wanted to go that route. There was certainly one other person who she’d really enjoy the evening with, though. Clarke thought about the possibility.

 _Would it be weird to take Lexa as her date?_ Well, probably not.

When she’d been trying to dissuade her ex-boyfriend’s advances, Raven had helped her out and pretended to be her date to several parties on campus that year. It had worked, and Finn had left them alone for the most part. There really wasn’t anyone she was trying to avoid this time, so she thought a night out might even be more fun. They could wear nice dresses and do their makeup together – she could see it now.

Clarke nodded, already forming a plan in her head. The only thing was getting Lexa to agree. She didn’t think it’d be much of a problem, and Lexa almost certainly wouldn’t take it the wrong way _(though Clarke wasn’t even sure which way she was hoping Lexa would take it_ ).

Though it was several weeks away, she was already earnestly anticipating the night, so she decided to text Lexa.

 **_C:_ ** _Hey! How’re you feeling?_

 **_L:_ ** _Really good._

 **_C:_ ** _Seriously?_

 **_L:_ ** _No._

 **_L:_ ** _I think I might be dying._

 **_C:_ ** _I’m sorry, Lex. I’ll let you sleep, then?_

 **_L:_ ** _It’s only seven!_

 **_C:_ ** _You need your beauty sleep ;)_

 **_L:_ ** _I feel plenty beautiful right now in my nest of tissues._

 **_C:_ ** _Well, I never said you weren’t. I imagine Anya has her hands full?_

This time, her reply was taking a little longer, so Clarke looked back at her assignment book. She checked that she’d completed everything she needed to and sighed. Perhaps she shouldn’t ask Lexa about the gallery until she was feeling better. _What to do now?_

She went over to sit on the couch, scrolling through Netflix on her laptop. She and Lexa had watched most of the shows currently being suggested to her from the other girl’s account, and any other ones she might’ve been interested were already next in line to be watched with her neighbor.

Clarke closed the laptop, resting it on her stomach as she leaned back on the armrest of the couch. It gave her a full view of the giant blank canvas looming against the wall, taunting her, so she rolled on her side and brought her phone out to text Raven.

 **_C:_ ** _Ray!_

 **_R:_ ** _What up?_

 **_C:_ ** _You busy? I’m free for once._

 **_C:_ ** _I don’t really know what to do with myself :P_

 **_R:_ ** _Aw, does somebody miss Lexa?_

 **_C:_ ** _What? No._

 **_R:_ ** _Sure thing, hon._

 **_C:_ ** _Are you busy or what?_

 **_R:_ ** _Sadly, yes._

 **_R:_ ** _Anya’s sick, so I’m on tissue patrol._

 **_C:_ ** _Sounds… lovely._

 **_R:_ ** _It truly is(n’t)._

 **_C:_ ** _How sweet._

 **_R:_ ** _Where’s your girl?_

Clarke hummed at that. As if Lexa was _her_ girl.

Her fingers paused in the middle of a reply, but something dawned on her. _If Anya was ill, then who was taking care of Lexa?_ She erased what she’d been about to write and created a new message.

 **_C:_ ** _You know, I think I’m going to go visit her._

 **_R:_ ** _Have fun ;)_

Clarke ignored the wink Raven sent her and put her phone in her pocket, gathering supplies from her kitchen and putting them in her bag, along with her laptop. She grabbed the spare key to Lexa’s apartment (which they’d exchanged recently, and Clarke was ever grateful that they rarely had to unlock the doors for each other anymore). A quick trip down the stairs later and she was in front of Lexa’s door.

She knocked loudly twice to give her neighbor some warning (an alert system they’d worked out) and opened the door. The television was on, playing some rerun of an old movie she’d never seen and Clarke guessed Lexa was laying on the couch.

“Don’t be naked,” Clarke called halfheartedly (a phrase they’d started shouting when walking unannounced into one another’s apartment). She heard movement and Lexa’s head popped up from the couch.

If possible, she looked even more exhausted than she had that morning. Her nose was red and cheeks flushed, and she looked confused at Clarke’s presence.

“You didn’t answer your text, you know,” Clarke told her and came around to the side of the couch where Lexa was leaning, seeing a few tissues fall to the floor. It looked like sitting up cost her friend a great effort. Clarke lifted up the pillow Lexa had been resting on and put it on her lap so that Lexa could lay back down on it, easing her struggle. Clarke put her feet up on the coffee table, where a few more stray tissues were moved away.

“I think I fell asleep for a little,” Lexa said to her, but her voice had changed considerably since the last time Clarke heard it. It was all hoarse and gravelly, and the way she spoke sounded like it caused her pain. Clarke combed some of the hair that had clung to Lexa’s face back as the girl beneath her shifted more comfortably towards the television.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she whispered guiltily.

Her hands had a mind of their own and continued playing with Lexa’s hair, but Clarke was worried with how warm her forehead had felt when she’d touched it again. She noticed the discarded thermometer on the floor and reached over to hand it to Lexa again. The other girl didn’t put up much of a fight this time, and handed it back to Clarke a minute later with a reading of 102.2.

Clarke sent a quick text to her mother, asking if she could deliver medicine for Lexa after her shift at the hospital. Once she put her phone down, Clarke found Lexa staring up at her. She put her own blonde hair in a bun until her friend finally spoke again.

“Why are you being so nice?” she asked, eyes glassy from the fever. Either that, or from the nap; Clarke couldn’t tell.

“Because,” Clarke told her, and paused. She thought about her answer carefully. “I think you’re my best friend.”

It was at least _one_ of the two reasons she’d come up with.

Lexa only furrowed her eyebrows, trying to look up to see the truth in Clarke’s expression. She tried to clear her throat. “What about Raven?”

“Well, you don’t have to have just a _single_ best friend. Even though I know I’ll always have her, Raven’s always busy these days. So I think I’m allowed to have more than one.” Clarke still had best friends from high school, so she knew this to be true. She winked down at the girl below her.

Lexa was fighting back a grin, and Clarke was glad to see her with any expression other than pain. Green eyes stared upwards with a hint of mirth. “If you want to know a secret, I think you’re my best friend, too.”

 _What was this weird feeling in Clarke’s chest?_ _It was fluttering, filling up her heart in a way she hadn’t known she’d needed. There was some weird part of her that needed a hug, right that very moment._

“Stop smiling so hard,” Lexa distracted her, grinning cheekily herself. The blush on her cheeks from the fever reddened just a little deeper. A weak hand raised to nudge Clarke’s arm so that she’d stop staring at her, but Clarke just continued beaming, pressing her lips together much like an idiot.

When she could gaze into Lexa’s eyes no longer without her heart pounding out of her chest, she looked up at the television, escaping the overwhelming feeling to at least squeeze Lexa’s hand or something. Clarke was content to keep her hands in her friend’s hair, though, and tried to focus on the movie. She didn’t exactly recognize it, and asked Lexa what she’d been watching.

“Oh, I have no idea,” she told her, pausing to cough into an elbow. “I just couldn’t reach the remote to change it.”

Clarke saw the remote resting on the TV stand and shook her head. “You’re pathetic, aren’t you?”

Lexa hit her again and tried to protest, but laughed and was thrown into a coughing fit. “I’m going to get you sick, just for that.”

“I took a pre-cold remedy before I came, so I think I’m safe. Anyway, have you been lying on the couch the whole day?”

“Maybe.”

“You should try sitting up at an elevated position. It’s not as comfy as lying down, but it puts you at less risk of developing pneumonia or something,” Clarke instructed. Realizing something, she added, “God, I’m starting to sound like my mom.”

“Well, I’m rarely sick, so I guess I could use your advice,” Lexa hummed and held the blanket closer to herself.

It was then that Clarke noticed a half-empty bottle of Nyquil on the table. She glanced at Lexa, back to the bottle, and back at Lexa again. “Did…did you drink half of that bottle today?”

“Oh, no. I drank that all right before you came in,” Lexa shrugged casually. She was staring at the movie and decidedly not looking at her concerned neighbor.

“Half…Half the bottle?” Clarke asked incredulously and watched Lexa nod. “Honestly, how have you ever survived alone for this long?

“Good question,” she replied, seemingly indifferent. “Anya told me it would solve whatever cold I have.”

“By OD-ing on cough syrup?”

“Now that I think of it, Anya’s rarely sick either.” Lexa finally looked at Clarke and stretched out a smile sheepishly. “It hasn’t even taken effect yet, though.”

“I have no doubt it will soon. Let’s move this to the bedroom,” Clarke suggested. She nearly blushed herself when Lexa gave a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “You sure it hasn’t already taken effect?”

Lexa only laughed again, another coughing fit predictably following. Yeah, it was definitely making a certain someone loopy. Clarke helped her stand up, hand flying around her waist to steady her. She was dizzy, so Clarke walked her to her bed and propped up pillows for her to lay up against.

“I’ll be bored in here,” Lexa whined uncharacteristically.

“We can watch something if you want me to stay. _Do_ you want me to stay?” Clarke asked, hoping she wasn’t intruding too much. Especially with her motherly instincts kicking in so hard. She was told that she could be bossy.

Apparently it wasn’t a problem, though, and Lexa nodded. “What else was I going to do tonight?”

“Alright, Pukey. I'll stay,” Clarke laughed. She’d brought an extra glass of water and set it by the bedside table.

“I never even threw up,” Lexa pouted. “I think the nausea was mostly from the wine. The rest of this is from being stuck in the rain for so long.”

Clarke shook her head, standing at the foot of Lexa’s bed. “It was partly my fault, too. I’m the one who dragged us up on the roof when it was freezing out. I don’t even know how long we were out for.”

“Aw, but it was worth it, Clarke,” Lexa said, and beamed drowsily at her. “Admit it.”

Clarke had to agree. It wasn’t often that they got to see a sky full of stars in the city. The whole moment had been kind of romantic, if you’d asked Clarke.

Romantic in a, uh, friendship sort of way. _Yeah. Yes_.

“Have you eaten in a while?” she asked her friend, who was currently seeing how tightly she could wrap the blanket around herself.

“I had some toast earlier,” Lexa answered, distracted.

“That was several _hours_ ago, and I was there,” Clarke pointed out. “Good thing I brought you something. Just… stay there, okay? I’ll bring my laptop in while you wait.”

Lexa seemed terribly spacey, and Clarke suspected she was getting absolutely high off the cough syrup. It would’ve been extremely laughable had Clarke not been so concerned with her well-being.

She set out to find a pot to cook the chicken soup she’d taken from her apartment in, and it was soon boiling on the stove when she heard a knock on the door.

Surprisingly, she opened it to find her mother standing there, medic bag in hand. “Mom?”

“Hey, hon. Can I come in?” her mother asked expectantly, nonchalantly glancing around in the apartment behind Clarke.

“I guess so,” Clarke told her and frowned. “I thought you were just going to drop off some meds.”

“Well, Clarke, I can’t just give anyone a prescription without a proper check-up. You know that,” Abby scoffed and entered through the doorway. When Clarke started to look apprehensive, she added, “Don’t worry, I’ll be in and out. I won’t bug her too much. Besides, I still haven’t even _met_ this girl you tell me so much about.”

Her mother was looking around the empty apartment again, and Clarke hated the embarrassment in her voice when she asked, “Can you keep your voice down, _please_?”

It was awkward enough that her mom had come over unannounced, but she totally hadn’t prepared Lexa for meeting her mother at all. She could be a handful at times, but Clarke thought that at least Lexa would get the proper care she needed, and after all, she hardly seemed the type to actually take herself to the doctor’s.

Her mom _did_ say that she’d be quick. Clarke relented and told her where the bedroom was, also making sure to tell her of the cough syrup her friend had ingested. Abby rolled her eyes at that in much the same way that Clarke had, and it was almost scary to think of how quickly she was turning into her mother.

She only returned to the bedroom to introduce Lexa to her mother, and left as soon as she could so as to tend to her soup. She certainly wasn’t going to stick around while Abby analyzed every interaction between them – she’d done it before with people Clarke _hadn’t_ been dating, and it had been awkward enough.

 _Wait,_ she paused. _Lexa still fell under that category of people she wasn’t dating._ Where had that come from?

It was certainly a hell of a Freudian slip _._ She shook her head at herself and thanked the heavens she hadn’t uttered it aloud.

She tried to think about something else, _anything_ else, while she stirred the soup and let her mother check out Lexa. However, true to her word, Abby returned to the kitchen relatively quickly, content with her assessment. She handed Clarke a bottle of prescription pills from her bag.

“I told her to take these twice a day for the next week,” Abby said and gathered her coat around her, zipping it up. “Quite a _friend_ you’ve got in there. I think she’ll be fine. You caught the symptoms of the flu pretty quickly; I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said, and the smile she gave her mother met her eyes, though she was wary about the way she’d emphasized the word “friend.”

“You would’ve made a wonderful doctor,” Abby started. Clarke was about to roll her eyes, but she finished with, “Nonetheless, I know you’re happy at the art school. I’m wishing you all the best luck on your finals.”

“Oh,” she replied. Her mother hadn’t usually been so accepting of Clarke’s choices, and it surprised her when her mother actually admitted her pride in what she’d been doing. “Thanks, mom.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s all in a day’s work. Literally,” her mother said and held up her med bag for emphasis. She hugged Clarke goodbye and gave her another few tips on how to take care of Lexa that she already knew, and bade her goodbye.

Clarke shut the door behind her mother and brought the soup she’d been making into her neighbor’s bedroom. Lexa was staring mindlessly at the laptop, which was now playing _Practical Magic_. Clarke joined her on the bed with her own pillows from the couch and handed Lexa the soup.

“Clarke,” Lexa stated after taking the pill Clarke handed her, and continued with words slurring a little. “Your mother was here.”

“Yes, I know. I introduced you,” she said, starting to find High Lexa just as entertaining, if not more, than Drunk Lexa. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Lexa squinted at the soup, reaching a few times for the spoon before she captured it. “Did you make this?”

“Yeah,” Clarke told her. She rested her own pillows against Lexa’s mound of them and balanced the laptop between the two of them. “Is it good?”

Lexa nodded vigorously though she hadn’t even brought the spoon to her mouth yet. Her voice sounded far from normal, but Clarke heard the dumbfounded gratefulness in her friend’s voice. “That’s so nice of you, Clarke! Thank you.”

Clarke was looking at the movie again, about to respond, but Lexa reached over with the hand not holding her bowl to gently bring Clarke’s chin closer to her and swiftly gave her a warm kiss on the cheek. Clark froze for a moment, mouth falling open until Lexa let go of her, and looked back at her friend with nervous laughter.

“You’re going to get me sick,” Clarke tried. It was all she could think of to say at the moment, but Lexa was already completely absorbed in her soup again, not even blinking at the stunt she’d just pulled. Clarke sat beside her, dazed for, well, she didn’t know how long, but soon Lexa was handing her back an empty bowl.

Clarke shook her head, trying to snap out of it and not focus on every detail concerning how soft Lexa’s lips had felt against her cheek. She failed miserably, and hadn’t realized her feet had moved her into the kitchen, or that her hands had set the empty bowl down in the sink, or that her legs had carried her straight back to Lexa’s bed before she settled again, deciding to keep herself warm under the covers as well.

She hadn’t realized _any_ of this until she looked over and realized Lexa was finally out cold from the medicine she’d taken. It was probably a good thing too, because Clarke was no longer sure she could handle her friend while she was under the influence. It was doing wild things to her pulse.

Deciding she would stay only to watch the rest of the movie they’d started, Clarke settled in and texted Raven, asking if she was having nearly as weird a time taking care of the pair of stubborn sisters as she was.

 ** _R:_** _You bet your ass I am,_ Raven had replied immediately.

 **_C:_ ** _These Woods girls are something, aren’t they?_

 **_R:_ ** _They certainly are._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm gonna need some major feedback on this one. Did it give you as many feels as intended? Honestly, you could even comment with a GIF of Kermit the Frog flailing about, and that would make me so happy. LET ME KNOW HOW IT WENT, BABES <3
> 
> P.S. Here's a special kiss from me to all of the previous chapters' reviewers: xoxoxoXoxOxOXOX  
> (We're in store for quite a fluff-filled treat soon!) (Also pardon the lack of witch references; they'll return next chapter.)
> 
> ********Full credits to Instagram user myleashylooo for the picture!


	8. Chapter 8 - Master of Brooding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After a long haitus…

Clarke woke up slowly with the last of her hazy dreams fading from memory. It was a good, soft sleep that was almost too good to wake from, but of course, real life was something else to look forward to entirely. 

Her eyes opened upon sunlight filtering in on coffee-colored walls. A warm weight told her there was a hand draped lazily across her stomach - a hand that wasn’t hers - but Clarke was hardly surprised. Lexa and she were running into a routine as of late, falling asleep next to one another. Far from feeling her space was intruded upon, Clarke was deriving comfort from the added warmth of the stray limb.

Clarke was still on her back, no longer propped up by the pillow she’d brought in the previous night. She turned her head towards Lexa, trying carefully not to move the rest of her body with her movements. She’d stilled safely and watched the girl’s eyelids flutter. 

Lexa was still on at least one pillow from her tower of them, but she was on her side facing Clarke. There was no sign she’d woken up, and Clarke had no intention of bringing her out of a much-needed rest. The girl’s cheeks were still rosy with fever, and Clarke frowned, hand almost itching to touch her forehead and check Lexa’s condition for herself. 

She sat staring at the fevered girl until suddenly, Lexa was moving again and rolling towards Clarke. She stopped only when her head was nestled on Clarke’s shoulder. A few strands of her hair tickled Clarke’s skin, and she had to suppress the urge to squirm and wake Lexa. A more enchanting sensation erupted in her chest when the girl settled, but Clarke couldn’t describe it.

Admittedly, she’d been thinking about Lexa constantly. It was small moments like this that really toyed with her heart. On one hand, like she’d told herself before, she loved having such a good friend that she trusted and felt completely comfortable with. She hadn’t been so tight with anybody since Raven, and that was unusual and wonderful for her. But behind this comfort was the sinking feeling that all would go sideways as it always did whenever Clarke started to think too hard about a straight girl. 

The feeling struck her gut hard. Really, any straight female friends that had found out her sexuality never seemed to act the same around her. What if, once the secret was revealed, Lexa acted like the others? It’d happened before. No more casual touching, no more hugging or really any kind of physical contact, and if there was, there was the flinching away that typically followed. What was it about straight people that made them assume you were into them automatically? Moreover, what was so bad about her sexuality that people automatically assumed she was a huge sexual predator out to sleep with everybody?

Fucking ridiculous, Clarke told herself, trying to lessen the anger she felt in her heart. She’d hoped with all her might that Lexa wouldn’t be one of those people, the kind that felt “betrayed” that she didn’t come right out to them. What a sorry excuse for homophobia. Hopefully, Lexa would just ignore that part of her and act like everything was normal.

Clarke tried to breathe deeply and close her eyes again, but her body was having none of it. Instead, she asked herself another question that was constantly nagging in her mind. 

Did she want Lexa to care about her sexuality?

She wanted to fight herself every way on this, but Clarke couldn’t help but think back on their friendship as of late. Lexa wasn’t exactly shying away from her when Clarke got carried away and forgot about the concept of personal space. Clarke kept a guarded heart when it came to (anything close to) falling for people, and she feared that Lexa was beginning to become one of those people. She’d tried her hardest to convince herself it was purely friendship, but the way Lexa could do the strangest things to heart with a look alone told her she was feeling otherwise. And it killed her inside.

Falling for straight girls was strictly off-limits; this had been Clarke’s rule since day one. She forced herself to daydream for a while about her options, and came to the conclusion that she needed to let whatever crush had developed die a slow death and to just enjoy a close friendship.

Either that, or figure out whether Lexa’s sexuality reached beyond the heteronormative or not. 

But, she already knew her chances were slim to none, and there was no way she would outright disrespect her friend’s privacy and ask. That was just in bad taste.

She went back to hoping these new feelings would die in the meantime. It was just hard, you know, when Lexa did adorable things like bury her nose into the fabric of Clarke’s shirt, lips tucked there. It was hard when the brunette slid her hand from Clarke’s stomach to the side of her ribs so that they were pressed closer against each other closer. It was especially hard when she realized Lexa was a full-body snuggler.

Clarke nearly let out a noise when Lexa’s thigh slid lazily between hers, but her heart in her throat choked any words that threatened to leave. It was hard because it was moments like these that let loose all her precautionary thoughts and made room for the less welcome ideas on how only to increase their skin-to-skin contact. 

The death of her feelings might go a little slow. Baby steps, Clarke supposed. On the one hand, some part of Clarke told her she should stay on alert and put that gaydar of hers to good use. She’d retired it upon the premise that gay stereotypes were just stereotypes, and that not every girl wearing Vans and a backward cap was gay, but hey – it wouldn’t hurt anyone if she looked for small signs like that in Lexa. 

Sleep-Lexa was decidedly dangerous, but Clarke really couldn’t find a proper way to slip out of her hold without waking her. The girl was laying on her shoulder in such a way, however, that Clarke would’ve had to roll her arm out from under Lexa to move. 

It was a rough situation, really; Clarke had originally planned to innocently watch the sunrise and brood before her friend had interrupted her thoughts. To maybe watch the golden light reflect on Lexa’s face and observe how her skin absolutely glowed in the golden light of dawn. The sun highlighted freckles there as brightly as it revealed glimmering dust particles in the light. She could get lost gazing into the face before her, but Clarke had such little resistance in her this morning that she decided it was alright if she stared a little. 

No one said the strange things she’d begun feeling had to disappear immediately anyway, Clarke told herself. Besides, the depressing thoughts about Lexa’s impending reaction was leaving her feeling a little needy.

She would surely start tomorrow, but for now, she brought her own arm to secure Lexa’s arm around her stomach, her other hand tangling in the brunette’s mess of hair. Clarke finally felt more at ease and allowed her suppressed feelings some satisfaction for once, ignoring the nagging thoughts she’d woken with at the back of her head, and felt so calm and relaxed that she fell asleep once more.

Well, nearly. Her daydreams were about to give way to real dreams again, but a pained sound came from the woman tightly holding onto her. Clarke watched Lexa’s eyes open in confusion first, and then close for a moment in relaxation once she realized her friend had turned into her own personal pillow. Something tugged at Clarke’s chest again.  
Lexa made no move to let her go, not even when she stretched her legs and seemed to realize right along with Clarke just exactly where the lower halves of their bodies had positioned themselves. Still, Lexa remained. 

Clarke thought perhaps Lexa was too tired to properly realize their positions, but all she did was search between Clarke’s eyes silently, perhaps asking if the other girl was uncomfortable at all. Clarke held her gaze.

“You’re going to get my flu,” Lexa asked finally, so hoarse that her voice sounded almost squeaky. Clarke smiled, wanting to laugh at how nonexistent her vocal chords were, but she also knew it must hurt to speak.

“You’re not trying very hard to keep your germs from me,” Clarke pointed out to her. Her finger tapped out a small pattern on Lexa’s forearm for emphasis. Remembering the kiss that had been planted on her cheek, she added, “Apparently getting high on cough syrup makes you affectionate, too.”

Lexa’s face quickly turned red even despite her flush, and she buried her face in the pillow beside Clarke’s shoulder. A muffled, “Sorry,” could be heard.

She could feel Lexa starting to extract her limbs, but Clarke stilled her arm. “I’m only kidding! It was adorable, really. You told me all your deepest secrets, and it was a good time.”

“What?” Lexa raised herself upright on her elbow faster than Clarke would’ve expected she could in her state and took her arm back. Her previously flushed face had turned pale white, and Clarke nearly grew a worried herself. “What do you mean?”

“About you being adorable? Or your dark secrets?” Clarke asked. Okay, so that was probably pushing it. Lexa was searching Clarke’s face, glancing down at their bodies that now rested parallel to one another, and back down at Clarke’s face again, which was presently smirking.

Lexa squinted at her. “You’re fucking with me aren’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Clarke but her lip in order not to laugh at the way normal colors were returning to Lexa’s face. “I’m a little concerned now. What are you hiding in your closet?”

“Closet?”

“You know, your skeletons. In said closet.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, not to be baited and fooled again. She’d composed herself and had a mischievous look in her eye. “Well, there is one thing I haven’t told. It concerns you, actually.”

“Excuse me?” Clarke asked, feigning disinterest. Or at least, alarm.

On the inside, a frightening feeling struck her chest. She didn’t know if it was anticipation or anxiety, and her mind went on a fast derailment down thoughts on whether Lexa’s secret had anything to do with Clarke’s earlier contemplations, or how she should react if it was what she thought it was. Did Lexa already know her secret? Whatever it was, Clarke willed Lexa to spit it out already so that the sudden thumping in her chest would stop. 

 

Lexa was reveling in the battle Clarke’s face was fighting to stay unconcerned, waiting until she gave in and asked. Clarke rolled her eyes. “What’s the secret?”

“First, promise you won’t be upset,” Lexa insisted, dawning a serious expression and looking Clarke in the eye. It was becoming harder to keep up her neutral expression.

“Of course,” Clarke obliged, growing nervous now that she had to say so. She obliged and even held out her pinky for the official swear.

“Okay, here goes,” Lexa said and sighed for dramatic effect. “Did you ever hear the loud thumps on your floor?”

“What? Yes?” Clarke asked, confused.

“When Anya was living here, she used to bang the broom against the ceiling because she could hear every little sound coming out of your apartment.” Clarke remained silent, so Lexa continued, “It drove me nuts and woke me up all the time.”

“That’s your big juicy secret?” Clarke asked, dumbfounded that she’d got her feeling nervous and excited for nothing.

“Okay, not that juicy, but I like to see you sweat,” Lexa smirked.

It hadn’t been what she was expecting, but a maybe more serious secret-exchanging session could be held another day. She feigned offence. “Sorry I was so noisy.”

“Oh, trust me – you weren’t. Anya has, like, supersonic hearing or something, like magic. I’ve heard nothing but her obnoxious, rude banging. I’m just sorry you had to put up with it, too.”

“Huh,” Clarke stated and sat up. Lexa joined her and they sat in the pile of blankets. “That makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Raven totally thought it was you, and-”

“And what?” she asked when Clarke stopped short.

“Nothing,” she assured Lexa. “Secrets for another day.”

Lexa pouted, but Clarke reminded her she was sick and start taking care of herself for the day. “I’m positive it’s time for another dose of antibiotics by now.”

Lexa agreed, but still looked like she didn’t want to move. In fact, she was taking the blankets up around her shoulders and searching for the thermometer, popping it in when she found it under a pillow. It read 102.0 degrees Fahrenheit still, to which Clarke frowned upon.

“I don’t know why you let me cling to you all night,” Lexa said sheepishly, a blanket covering her mouth as she got settled into it and pulled it around her. “You’re going to be the one sick in bed next.”

“First of all, I don’t know about you, but I was pretty comfortable,” she said, but Lexa became suddenly interested in looking up at the ceiling instead of Clarke. “Second of all, some of us have nagging mothers who convince us to get flu shots in advance. I think I’ll be fine. Besides, even if I did get sick, I’m sure you’d be there to help.”

Lexa looked up at her again and nodded with a grateful look. It was a bit comical considering over three fourths of her body were now wrapped up in a flannel blanket, trying to derive the same warmth from it that Clarke’s body heat had previously supplied.

“You should try for a warm shower, maybe that’ll make you feel better,” Clarke suggested.  
Lexa had nodded and soon left the cover of the sheets for the bathroom, leaving Clarke to her thoughts. She could hear the sound of the water starting and the shower curtain being shuffled, and closed her eyes.

Clarke went back to daydream land, thinking selfishly and more determinedly about finding any hint of “gay” around Lexa or her apartment, getting lost making a mental list of possible hints, while the sound of the water shutting off registered in the back of her mind.

She sat up, realized that Lexa hadn’t brought any extra clothes into the bathroom, and smirked. She opened her mouth to say something smart, but heard something on the other side of the bathroom door. 

A thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Honestly guys writing block just happens sometimes, and sometimes it lasts a year like this. My sincerest apologies bc this story is really fun to write and I got caught up with girl problems and my impending graduation and didn’t have time to come back, but I had this chapter saved on my computer for over a year so I’m posting it ASAP.  
> THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE SWEETEST AMOUNTS OF ENCOURAGEMENT IN THE FORM OF COMMENTS I HAVE EVER RECEIVED!!!! I appreciate every reader so very much and I’m so glad some of you kept reminding me to update. Pls don’t hate me too much for taking so long!


	9. Chapter 9 - A Fainting Spell

Lexa had decided to go into the shower like Clarke had suggested. She desperately needed to feel clean – the amount the fever had made her sweat during the night had left her feeling rather grimy. And she didn’t need to be grimy in front of Clarke.

She reached her shaking hand out from underneath her blanket to turn the faucet and wait for the water to heat up, busying herself with undressing.

Lexa hated being sick. Everything felt foggy in her brain. Her body felt sluggish and hot, and at the same time, the cool air in her apartment was giving her goosebumps. She half wondered if she could just crawl back to bed with Clarke and cuddle underneath the blankets again.

Lexa paused and caught her own look in the mirror. A raised eyebrow was staring back at her, an expression of doubt – her reflection was unimpressed.

Oh so what, Lexa told the reflection. This was a safe space to think any stray thoughts she shouldn’t necessarily be thinking. She was sick, and for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, she’d felt relaxed and at peace in her best friend’s arms. Clarke’s comforting hold had lulled her back to sleep after she’d shifted closer in her sleep, and with her inhibitions lowered, Lexa had buried herself closer into Clarke. She’d allowed herself an indulgence.

She had the flu, after all. A nasty one, at that. She deserved all the comfort she could find.

Lexa had faced toward the shower again and pulled aside the curtain so she could step in. Her skin usually hurt when she had fevers like this; constantly feelings pins and needles whenever anything brushed against her. It hadn’t felt uncomfortable when she was curled up with Clarke, she noted, and thankfully she’d found no such prickly sensation when the hot water touched her skin either. She sighed and dipped her head and neck under the stream, feeling her neck muscles unwind and letting the water cascade down her freezing body. It felt just a tad colder than normal, so Lexa turned the nozzle left for more heat.

It was nice to be alone with her thoughts in the shower. The very moment she stepped in, she decided that her tub would be a safe haven, a place where she could always allow herself to think about this morning’s events (and future possible happenings alike) freely without having to face that judgmental reflection in the mirror. Events like this, with her very close best friend. Her very best friend that did strange and wonderful things to her stomach, like give it butterflies when an arm was slung around her waist at sunrise.

Her fevered brain couldn’t help but fixate on Clarke’s decision to stay the night. Lexa tried to remember going to bed, but she couldn’t even recall that much. The fact that Clarke had stayed so long was surpising, but she was pleased nonetheless that her friend had stayed and taken care of her. No one had ever done anything like that for Lexa, and she was truly touched. She made a mental note to thank Clarke, and especially her mother, again.

She reached down and turned up the heat of the water again, finding it had gotten cool, and watched as the steam rose above the shower curtain. She washed her hair with shampoo and conditioner and rinsed her long, brunette locks thoroughly.

Lexa had only been in the shower for a few minutes, but long enough that thoughts were on loop – she kept daydreaming about returning to bed, thinking about how comfy it had been this morning. Her legs felt so weak that she had half a mind to sit down in the tub for the remainder of the shower, but felt it would be hard to rinse her body wash off that way. Not to mention, Lexa hardly doubted she’d be able to convince herself to stand up afterwards, since all she was looking forward to was returning to Clarke’s arms.

Er – bed. Returning to bed. Yes. Clarke would probably leave.

Would Clarke leave?

She wondered if she should let Clarke know she could stay. Just, you know, so Lexa wouldn’t get bored. She supposed it was Clarke’s choice.

Lexa reached down to turn the knob further left, but found that it wouldn’t go any further. She furrowed her eyebrows. Had she really been taking a shower on full heat? It felt, at best, lukewarm to her. Lexa wondered for half a second if perhaps the pipes were broken. Remembering once more that she was sick and had trouble feeling warm, she doubted that it was anything other than her own body fighting this increasingly-annoying illness.

It was useless to try and boil her body back to a comfortable temperature, she decided, so she shut the water off and rung out her wet hair. She stepped out of the tub and tugged a towel securely around her, immediately feeling the difference in air temperature. The cold air stung, and Lexa wished she’d given in to her desire never to leave the bed.

The wave of cold washed over her, a stark difference from the intense heat of the shower. An overwhelming feeling of weakness seemed to come over her. Lexa’s legs felt like lead, and her stomach felt a little sick. She tried to ignore it and looked at the steamy mirror, wiping away the build-up so that she could see herself.

She was only making it worse, however, and it wouldn’t clear up. The more she wiped, the more she only saw white. Confusingly before her, her vision before her seemed to worsen as if the steam was getting in her eyes, and she could only see white spots – everywhere she looked. Lexa felt sweat dripping down her forehead… she needed to lay down –

_Thud_.

* * *

Clarke threw the blankets aside and ran to the bathroom door.

That thud could _not_ be good, and images were flashing through her mind of Lexa having slipped and fallen in the tub, a gash in her head, bleeding out, or worse. Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough.

She stopped short just outside the bathroom, hand hovering above the door knob. She curled her fingers into a fist instead and knocked tentatively on the frame.

“Lexa?” she asked, worry filling her voice, tilting her head so as to hear any small sounds coming from the other side. “Lexa are you okay? Do you need help?”

There was no reply. No sounds that she could hear otherwise, either. The silence was anxiety-inducing.

She knocked again. “Lexa? Please give some indication that you’re not dead?”

She thought that Lexa would at least respond to a little humor. She wanted nothing more than to burst through the door, but she certainly wasn’t about to embarrass both herself and Lexa if she was naked. “Lexa! Come on, if you don’t respond I’m going to have to open this door.”

She pressed her ear up to the door and sighed. A faint groan could be heard from the other side.

“Lexa! Okay, you’re not dead. Are you decent?” Clarke asked, this time louder.

The responding groan sounded like an affirmation, and knowing full well Lexa hadn’t brought extra clothes, she opened the door with a hand over her eyes. “Lex, I’m coming in now.”

“Ow,” Lexa moaned weakly. “Clarke?”

“Right here,” Clarke answered, hand hovering over her eyes just enough so that she could only see downward, allowing her to locate the general direction of her friend without tripping over her. “You good?”

“Everything hurts,” Lexa pouted. Well, Clarke couldn’t see the pout, but knew it was there all the same. “What are you doing?”

“You’re naked, aren’t you?”

“No?”

“Oh,” Clarke said, laughing a bit in relief. That laughter was quickly stifled when she lowered her hand and realized that Lexa was leaning very uncomfortably against the tub on the floor, looking in pain. Thankfully, her friend was still wrapped in a loose towel that covered everything it needed to. She kneeled down next to Lexa and put a hand on her shoulder, and upon finding her skin scorching, raised the back of her hand to rest on Lexa’s forehead.

“Lexa, you’re on fire,” Clarke remarked, finally noticing how steamy the bathroom was. It was almost unbearable, and so she reached behind her and opened the door so that it would filter out. “Are you okay?”

Lexa shuddered. “I’m too cold. And too hot.”

“What happened?” Clarke asked as she helped Lexa sit up, noticing a spot of blood on the tub where Lexa had been leaning. She urged the girl to sit forward a little more and saw a small cut on her back from the fall, and several dark red spots that would not doubt turn to bruises “Aw, Lexa…”

Lexa seemed to respond to the tenderness in her voice. “I turned the shower a little too hot and I think I nearly passed out.”

“Nearly?”

“I was trying to sit down so that I felt less dizzy and, well, my body wanted me to go a little faster I think,” Lexa pouted again. Her eyes looked watery and cheeks flushed, and something in Clarke’s chest clenched. A fierce need to protect Lexa and take care of her overcame Clarke, and she nodded and brushed Lexa’s wet strands behind her ear. Lexa was shaking a little, big green eyes boring into her soul, looking for comfort, and by god Clarke was going to do anything it took to make her feel better.

She let her go for a moment to clean up the cut on her shoulder blade with a cool cloth and seemed satisfied that the cut was clean. “When I said a warm shower, I didn’t mean you had to turn up the water that hot, Lexa. You probably raised your body temperature a little too much.”

Lexa shrugged. “I didn’t think it would make me faint.” She looked pitiable, and Clarke handed her a cold washcloth to put on her forehead so that she could cool down properly when she got back to bed.

“Let’s get you up, okay?” Clarke offered, and stood up with Lexa, aware that the taller girl was feeling a little helpless and didn’t like it. Lexa finally stood properly and leaned on Clarke for support, legs unsteady. She tipped forward into Clarke’s space a little, threatening to go down again, but Clarke held her steady and secured her hands on the towel around Lexa.

“Sorry,” Lexa whispered, face somehow flushing more. It was something about her cheeks blushing from the shower along with a deeper reddening of her ears that was somehow inexplicable adorable. As close as she was, Clarke was hyper aware of Lexa breathing in her air, and was about to move back when she noticed Lexa staring. Was Lexa staring at her lips?

“It’s fine,” Clarke whispered back, and noticed her eyes still watching. She couldn’t possibly be doing what Clarke thought Lexa was doing.  If she could stop blushing over these things herself, that would’ve been great. It wasn’t fair that she was close enough to delight in the strongly enticing aroma of a freshly-showered Lexa, lavender shampoo and the water droplets on Lexa’s eyelashes suddenly consuming all of her thoughts.

Really, it was unfair that her best friend could be as beautiful as she was, objectively speaking. It was extremely noticeable in this proximity, and Clarke could hardly believe she hadn’t noticed Lexa’s striking beauty at such a distance earlier. It seemed practically criminal.

And the way Lexa’s eyes never left Clarke were causing all sorts of strange reactions within her. She wasn’t sure if it was normal for her heart to skip like that, and was positive it wasn’t healthy. She stole her own glance at the brunette’s lips that were parted not too far from her own. Oh, something felt so unfair about all this. But she couldn’t be imagining it. She just had to test something.

Clarke bit her lip. Just a small flick of the tongue and the tiniest sucking in of her lip, so as not to overdo it. Just to see if it would cause any reaction.

Of course, this was ridiculous and would probably prove to be futile and she would go back to her normal self, helping her poor sick friend and definitely not taking advantage of her.

But Lexa swallowed.

Oh this was bad. Personal space was especially necessary right now. Especially if Clarke were to tear her own eyes away from Lexa’s mouth again and remain with a shred of her dignity intact. Whatever was happening right now needed to not happen right now.

“Uh, let’s get you into bed.” She cringed at her wording, but Clarke took a deep breath and stepped towards the door, turning so that Lexa could move with her. She ignored any more looks in her general direction, as she was positive there was no way she could handle them.

What was it about a girl in a towel that was making it impossible to remember what she’d been telling herself about not coming onto Lexa?

That’s right, Clarke reminded herself suddenly. She’d told herself she could at least look for signs that Lexa wasn’t one hundred percent straight. Not that Clarke would take advantage of that sort of information. _Cough_.

But, well, the way Lexa was looking at her this morning certainly served to be driving her crazy. And Lexa had been staring, right? At her lips, no less. Not like many straight girls stared at other girl’s mouths unless they had food sticking in their teeth, but again, it hadn’t been a food-in-your-teeth sort of stare. It seemed awfully damning, but the fact that Lexa had been acting so loopy with the flu lately wasn’t selling her on it. Clarke might’ve been seeing what her mind wanted to see, anyway, and that wasn’t to be trusted.

That was what Clarke thought she was settling on, at least, until she decided to help Lexa get dressed.

Lexa had flopped down lazily against her pillows again, waiting until Clarke turned around to get under the covers and transfer the towel to her soaking wet hair. The cold cloth was set down until she would clothed. Clarke didn’t dare look behind her to get any more fuel for her obviously-maxed-out-on-hormones brain, so she focused instead on searching through Lexa’s dresser.

“So shirts are where?” She asked, hands resting on the smooth wooden furniture.

“Second drawer,” Lexa answered, and took the shirt Clarke threw behind her. “Sweatpants are below that.”

“Uh,” Clarke started as she opened the drawer below, voice higher than normal. “I’m guessing the drawer with sweatpants is not the one with underwear that I opened instead,” Clarke dared a glance back at her friend, who’d thankfully put on the shirt.

Any other day, Normal Lexa would’ve turned ten different shades of red and yelled at Clarke to shut the drawer, but this was Fevered Lexa. Fevered Lexa was a whole different brand of dangerous, apparently fazed by nothing and braver than she’d ever seen. Clarke half-wondered if drinking all that cough syrup had permanently altered her brain.

Lexa sat up and winked at her. “Rifling through my unmentionables, are we?”

Clarke almost sputtered. Lexa was giving her a devilish look, ultimately fucking with her to make her embarrassed, but Clarke was horrified to find it was working. She was trying so hard to keep her cool, but it was futile when Lexa was being this difficult. “You said to look in the drawer below!”

“I meant the bottom drawer,” Lexa shrugged. Clarke had a feeling Lexa knew what she was doing and saw through her blasé attitude. Clarke wasn’t sure how much of this she could handle for once. A Lexa this confident was unsettling.

She pulled a brave face and forced herself to look back in the drawer, refusing to react outwardly, and flung a pair of random Lexa’s own underwear at her. Clarke got the satisfaction of watching Lexa’s eyes widen at the lacy panties. “What? You’ll need a clean pair of those too, yes?”

Lexa nodded and seemed at least a little taken aback, but her mouth was still without filter. “I just thought it would be easier not to wear any, but if these appeal to you.”

“Alright, someone clearly has a dangerous fever messing with their brain.” Clarke turned around again to give Lexa the privacy to put them on, and once facing the dresser, her mouth opened in disbelief. Had Lexa seriously just said that? If Clarke didn’t know better, she would’ve thought she was being flirted with. Certainly teased.

Yeah, that cough syrup definitely must’ve caused brain damage.

Clarke reached down into the proper drawer of the dresser so that she could dig out some maroon sweatpants, and threw them at Lexa’s face. Lexa made a noise to let Clarke know she was displeased with her aim, but Clarke was much too flustered to do much more than anything childish. Clarke vowed for a while that she definitely needed to stay away from searching through Lexa’s drawers, lest she have a gay heart attack. Try as she might to erase those images from her brain out of respect for Lexa’s privacy, she thought it still might take a while not to think about the amount of Calvin Klein’s she’d seen.

Once Lexa was fully clothed again, she let Clarke know. “Thank you.”

“No problem at all.” Clarke turned around to meet a face more serious than the one she’d been dealing with moments before.

“No, really, I mean it. I really appreciate you staying and helping me. It means a lot. And please make sure to make your mother know as well,” Lexa smiled gratefully.

“It’s really no big deal,” she offered.

“But it is,” Lexa insisted. “I don’t have a lot of people close to me. I mean, sure, I have my parents, but they’re frequently busy with the law firm and we aren’t as close as we used to be.” Lexa shrugged. “I have Anya, but she has Raven now, so it just means a lot to have someone close to me that cares enough to make sure I’m okay.”

Clarke was speechless. Lexa was giving her whiplash today – one minute she was sassy and teasing, the next sincere and heartfelt. Clarke walked over to sit on the edge of the bed rest a hand on Lexa’s outstretched one. It took her a second to come up with the proper words, so she stared at their conjoined hands while she thought.

“I’ll always be there for you, okay? Cause I know you’ll be there for me too,” Clark smiled and matched Lexa’s expression.

The brunette was beaming, but her eyes seemed dangerously watery again. It seemed she could only nod in response.

Clarke squeezed her hand. “And part of me being there for you is me being responsible and making you check your temperature again. You’re going a little loopy on me,” she chuckled.

“What do you mean? I’m acting perfectly normal.”

“Ha- Yeah. _Okay_ , loopy.”

Clarke disappeared into the other room. She certainly would be there for her best friend, no matter what. Even if that meant dealing with the flirty, fevered, adorable mess that was getting all mushy on her in the next room.

She shook her head and came back to test Lexa’s fever, not at all surprised by how high it was. Lexa looked tired as ever, and took fever-reducers and antibiotics as suggested by the Griffin family.

“Time for your potions and elixir of life,” Clarke said as she handed Lexa her medication, but Lexa made no indication that she’d heard Clarke’s phrasing. She propped up her pillows and brought her blanket up to her chest, looking if not a little miserable.

“When do you have to leave?” Lexa asked, sounding as though she wasn’t looking forward to being alone.

“Who said I was going to leave? Didn’t I just tell you I’d be there for you?” Clarke smiled and shook her head.

“Oh,” Lexa said, smile slowly spreading back on her face. “You’ll stay then?”

“Netflix in bed all day?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m glad you guys don’t hate me for being on hiatus for so long. I’m totally eating up all your sweet comments  I’m trying to fit more witchy references in here, I swear!


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